Somewhere, out there in the darkness, is a regret trying to undo its inception.
In the Gutter, regret is what feeds our dreams.
In the Gutter, regret is what feeds our dreams.
Return to Eden by Ty Vossler
 |
 |
First there was
blackness—blackness so deep that my last thought was the uselessness of even
trying to escape it. In that final moment, I knew that I was tied to the Earth
forever and that the blood and brain mix on the tile floor around my shattered
head would somehow nourish the planet.
Then, as if suddenly
jolting awake from a terrible nightmare I sat straight up and floated back to
my feet. I saw moist spray and fragments of bone drifting away from me, and
then rushing back in, the bones, fitting back into place as if my head were one
of those damned jig-saw puzzles that takes about three years to finish.
Out of the corner of
my eye I saw Eve’s husband
backing out of the motel room, and her screaming, “madA!” and then the door slammed
behind him. Then I was sitting on the bed again. I rolled over and was between
her thighs—back in Eden—such a glorious feeling coursing through my body, as
though I were reborn. I heard myself growling with pleasure. The height of the
feeling followed a slow, downhill path until I reached the beginning of our
lovemaking and even then, the anticipation made me dizzy with desire.
Oh, what men are
capable of saying in these first few moments, when the blood has rushed from
our brains and into our erections—what
we say.
As I slipped out of
her, I heard the three words, brought forth by chemicals, because there is no
such creature as love and never was.
Just a release of dopamine that brings us back for more and more—makes us chase
the apple in the Tree of Life, hoping for the same high, yet we’re always
disappointed.
