Salvation

My little brown paper bag is the key to my salvation. Inside it hides many panaceas to cure my weary soul. I often think about my savior and what contents she will bring to soothe me, what sacred surprises she may bring. She whispers sweet nothings into my ear, coaxing me with promises of escapism and adventure. I patiently await our reunion.

I often daydreamed about her while at work. In between the time I am sending emails about matters which do not concern my joy, I experienced fantasies of anarchy and self-destruction. As my thoughts wandered in gardens of self-mutilation, I heard her distant cry calling to me, promising me warmth, love, and an escape from my disturbed mind.

The bustle around my cubicle called me back to the present moment. And it is here in this fresh state of awareness I returned to reality, and my gaze focused on the despondent and glazed eyes of the working poor. I wondered if they were thinking about their brown paper bags too?

I patiently counted the days until I could see my brown paper bag once again. I wished to hold her in my arms and my heart desperately yearned to reunite with her. It is sad to admit, but the thought of our weekly rendezvous persuaded me to get out of bed every morning. The hope I would see her again was the wind beneath my wings. Friday could not come fast enough.

Finally, the promised day arrived. My peers and I raced to the exit of our corporate stables with the vigor of bucking broncos. We rejoiced with excitement in our hearts to leave our weekly reality for the time being. I entered my worn car and turned the key to the ignition swiftly.

I merrily left the front gate of my cage, made a left turn, and anxiously waited at the intersection. My anticipation was palpable, and I involuntarily swallowed the excess saliva in my mouth. I glared wildly at the traffic light, waiting for its permission so that I may reunite with my love. The traffic light mercifully gave me the green light and I sped towards her direction.

I arrived at my destination. I exited my old rust bucket and with a newfound vitality galloped to the entrance. Racing past the carts, I swiftly plundered the aisles. I grabbed my necessities and ran towards the cashier. The clerk could see the anticipation on my face, it bordered on madness. He gently bestowed my little brown paper bag. I extended my gratitude to the cashier as I raced back to my car, and headed to my palace of squalor.

I grabbed her by her hand and brought her up to my apartment. With haste, I locked the door behind me, giving us the privacy we desperately deserved.

The small studio apartment was infested with roach carapaces and overrun with the remains of old fast-food packaging. If any other guest were there with me, shame would have rattled my core as they lay witness to the depressing state of my abode. But my brown paper bag was pure of heart and didn’t care that I am a poor and disgusting human. My angel accepted me for who I am and for that, I am madly in love with her.

I gazed upon her fanatically. The way her brown dress demurely laid upon her figure tempted my primal side, coaxing me to undress her. I couldn’t hold my excitement a moment longer.

My fingers tensed.

I grabbed her frame towards mine fervently ripping her kraft paper garments. What lay underneath was truly a marvel.

Her naked body glistened in the twilight of my poorly lit apartment, contrasting the dark and dreary background with her intoxicating aura. Lustful forces compelled me to kiss her body, beginning from the base of her being, worshiping and savoring every inch of her as I worked my way upward.

I arrived at her lips, and I quivered at the thought of finally consummating our love for one another. I looked at her lovingly and she reflected my ardor, giving me the consent to continue our night of passion. I quickly removed my clothes, stripping off every article so that my body was just as bare as hers. I caressed her lips one last time. Then, I unscrewed her cap and pressed her lips to mine.

I began to ingest the familiar liquid taking no breaks to voluntarily breathe as I allowed her contents to enter my fleshy container. I tilted her body down towards mine allowing gravity to work its magic. The liquid washed over my mouth and down my esophagus, cleansing both body and soul with each gulp. My repressions urged me to up my tempo, and I listened enthusiastically. A burning sensation emerged in my chest notifying me that I was approaching a well-needed shift in consciousness. I coughed profusely, interrupting my fit of passion, but I quickly returned to her lips to absorb her essence once again.

For the first time that week, I felt happy. How I have missed that feeling. Where there was a vacuum, I felt a growing warmth in my chest and joy in my heart. I could feel a gentle numbness overtaking my being and with its emergence, my bodily aches and insecurities receded to make room. I was so overjoyed and grateful for my savior, I could not contain myself and I broke out in dance, sporadically crunching the trash underneath my feet. I held her with my arms outstretched, spinning around the dimly lit apartment.

The shifting weight of her handle provoked me to further indulge my hedonistic desires until I reached the absolute zenith of pleasure. I began to chug her contents inexorably. Air and liquid danced within her emitting a rhythmic and wondrous percussive beating. Her song sent me into a trance. My mouth and throat were set ablaze but my appetite for pleasure overrode my pain.

I gagged violently expelling spit and phlegm from my core. I coughed continuously and when I opened my eyes the contents of the small studio apartment spun wildly around me, distorting left from right. I could not help but smile ear to ear as I slammed into the wall trying to get my bearings. I was in an extreme state of ecstasy. I no longer felt anything except for the crooked smile on my face and the fullness in my bladder.

I painstakingly walked down the dark hallway which led into the small bathroom. With great care, I diligently placed one foot in front of the other so as to not let the floor slip from underneath my feet. I laid my right hand against the wall for support and with the bottle in my outstretched hand, I probed for any obstructions in my path. By taking small breaks to compose myself, I mustered the courage to move forward. As I turned the corner my stomach panged and I painfully dry heaved until I retched, striking me off balance. The force from vomiting sent my head flying into the jamb of the doorway, drawing blood and knocking me out cold.

I was woken by the muffled screeching of my work alarm. I pried my eyes open exposing my pupils to the judgmental fluorescent lights. I lay bare, battered and bruised on the cold linoleum floor soaked in a puddle of piss, blood, and broken glass from my handle of liquor. I began to lift myself to my feet, slowly increasing in altitude to not disorient myself any further.

Staring at the shards of glass on the ground led me to an important realization; I was alone again. No warmth remained in my chest and my aches and insecurities had returned stronger bringing with it an intense pounding in my frontal lobe. I sheepishly avoided eye contact with the bathroom mirror and began the trek into the hallway.

I followed the sound of the alarm to its origin. Pale sunlight emanated from the patio windows illuminating the dreary living room in cool light. While I sifted through the garbage which almost completely covered my studio floor, I found my work pants with my cell phone still buzzing in its right pocket. I turned off the alarm and glanced at my lock screen.

It was Monday morning. Two nights had passed since my fit of unbridled passion.

I stood naked and ashamed in the middle of the room, tears welling in my eyes as the drumming in my head banged relentlessly. My despondent gaze rested upon a remnant of brown kraft paper near the entrance of my apartment. I smiled weakly and began to patiently count the days until I am able to see her again.