New Year. Thoughts on Adultery from a loveless man.

The sick feeling of betrayl slipped down his throat like syrup declining down into the stomach, churning and pickling organs. Soon it boiled its way through the stomach wall, hacking a path through his veins like a child with a kitchen knife. Corrupting his blood and blurring his vision. Images of her like a vivid assault of his senses, the smell, the touch, how it felt to have his hand on the small of her back. Confusion gave birth to anger, which in turn grew into dispair. Not so much at the event itself, or even the two particiapting parties; but more the sense of his helplessness. The enduring notion that he could do nothing, like the weightlessness of falling.

The thought of her hazelnut skin drapped over his eyes, turning the world a sepia tone. He listened for the silence, but the quiet buzz of the moniter turned into a scream as a stop motion film of abstractions flicked through his mind. Images of her. Images of them. He was getting ill, the dulling effects of the throat lonzenge he took three hours prior had finally worn off. He could feel himself melting into the bed sheets, soon to be a damp stain of indifference. Evaporating and diffusing through the air, choking people with memories of their youth. Memories of what they could have been. Memories of what they could have changed.

"I should have said something when i was 16" he said to himself. "Before this beast evolved into something I couldn't understand let alone tame." No his own manifestation leered and snarled at him. Baring it's horrible teeth, and gnawing at the synapses in his head. There was no plan, no system of destruction, the match had been lit and subsequently the fuse. All there was left to do was pick through the bone and flesh to piece together some kind of semblance of exsistence. Could there be life in the fall out? Deformed bodies, unaturally twsited and contorted wandering through hallways of mirrors. Only witnessing the reflection they want to see. Thats what life would be like from now on, how could he face them again. How could he face anyone again. Knowing what he knows, like a bloodstained epiphany laughing at him.



photograph by Nigel Tomm