Regret?

Do you know what it feels like to be completely engulfed by a daze so sublime that it transforms reality and brings you to heights that men and women strive to reach, sometimes without even knowing so, but can never quite grasp? It's like a smog becoming denser and denser until the smoke has voided your vision, visual perception blurred and hazy, a mask of tranquility covering every inch of flesh and auric energy that pulses through your being. I like floating through the divine vivacy that's like a sheet of intense fog, bleeding starting from your pupil set in the center of your eye like a black diamond, rolling out to the retina, not necessarily distorting reality, but giving it new meaning, new perception creating a new clearness and twisting it in ways that allow any inhibitions fall from your being, making your essence pure. That's not to say that the smoke completely clouds your vision in a literal sense. No. It merely gives matter, both physical and spiritual, new shape.

Each time it's a different sheet, the material of the energy caressing you with a new texture during each experience. When it wraps you snuggly with its warmth, submerging the essence of you in a thick magickal ooze, everything is perfect, completely right in the world. It's like the whispering of the Goddess when she holds you to her breast, caressing you with the serene knowledge that in the end all is well, a spirit resting peacefully in perfisity.

When you float through this essence there are no cares, no worries throbbing through your mind, eating away at your every thought. No. You can lay in a collaboration of bodies, touching and feeling, caressing with fingers and tongues, memorizing with both flesh and taste. Being filled completely, your mouth, your hand, your sex holding the physical essence of many, pounding, sucking, and jacking to something near fulfillment, though not always reaching the extreme height, the ultimate high.

In the end you can be left empty, though the majority of the self shines brighter than it had moments ago. Merging together with others seeming to complete you, fill you with the kind of vigor and life that can only be obtained by the pressing and rubbing of our physical bodies, making you tingle from head to toe, uncontrolled screams slipping from your lips as you caress orgasmic bliss, striving to be engulfed by it, though only tickling the surface.

But what happens when the smoke clears, the feelings of ecstasy and bliss drifting slowly away like a rolling smog? Is your vision still blurred, but now with tears? Do they roll down soft cheeks in thin canals, staining your face? Once the sublime feeling has left you is there a void deep with in your spirit, like a dried up well, empty with no hopes of ever being refilled? Does your normal perception of reality hit you in the face like a brick, hard, painful, and harsh? When you lay in the knowledge of your actions are you filled with regret? Was it worth giving to two in order to obtain one?

You realize the next day brings fourth the normality of your existence. Where lips once touched, a cool breeze now caresses the lonely flesh. Where hands once roamed, creating heat and friction, the skin is now left untouched. Warm breath will no longer caress your neck, small moans of pleasure and bliss escaping with each sigh. It hurts looking into deep brown eyes, searching for a glimmer of the previous divinity, a kind of energy that draws your spirit in and holds it forever, but only finding distance, a dark hole that you plunge into like a lonely abyss. That's not to say that the eyes are entirely cold, or that the distance is so tremendously great that you can't clearly see into their depths... But the distance you strive to cross can be tiring, making your spirit sweat salty tears.

At times it's so easy to be overwhelmed by the distance, like a never ending road that you have no choice but to travel. The tears become your new essence, your aura gray and nearly void, a feeling of emptiness taking over your very existence. It makes you want to scream, yelling and crying until your throat is sore and raw. It makes you want to gouge out brown eyes, throwing every wonderful thing away that those orbs allow you to see, like the piece of garbage you yourself feels like.

Do you regret now that you feel like a used rag, knowing that you yourself was nothing more than a means to obtain another?

It becomes harder to regret when your mind is filled with memories of soft warm flesh pressed against your own. You remember your eyes opening to the new light of day to see brown eyes resting softly shut, lashes fluttering slightly in sleep. A naked chest rises and falls, heavy breathing flowing from full, lush lips. You dare to press your own to them, not wanting deep eyes to open, afraid of what they might hold. You can't regret after letting your hands slide over skin so soft that it feels near to new. You can't regret after snuggling close to the forbidden, and actually being held by it, wrapped in its arms, even if not consciously. How can you regret after lying with what your heart desires most?

It's easy to be angry, living with the knowledge that your souls had connected enough to talk subconsciously, though in the normal perceived reality there is a great distance, a loss of that sublime connection. Oh yes. It's very easy to be angry knowing that you were but a mere means to an end which is not you... But regret?

Never.