Sinful Urge
Neither the soothing sound of breeze, nor the tweeting birds or the
melody of rain played on the stereo system in my bedroom gave me
the comfort I deserved. My mind was inescapably trapped by a
grueling urge throwing my entire body into painful disarray. Once
again I was captivated by an insatiable craving in the middle of the
night. By hardly lifting my eyelids, I was persuaded by the heavy
burden of their weight it was too early to be tomorrow, the torment
was bound to linger on. I made a desperate effort to ignore my
desire by turning from shoulder to shoulder for a while or lying on
my back and thinking of the least simulating subjects to distract me
from the sinful wanting of the night. Yet my futile effort faded in the
pale layers of passion-stricken bed sheets. The more I resisted the
fever, the more burning the temptation became.
The long struggle yielded no comfort so I lifted my aching torso
from the bed, staggered to my computer and in a haze of illicit
thoughts and forbidden wishes I began striking the keys desperately
hoping for a swift relief from this everlasting ache. The most
provocative images suddenly overwhelmed my mind and I
descended into an eerie trance in which I could personify my wildest
dreams and passionately portrait my perverse desires.
I fearlessly ripped the veil of shame, audaciously crossed every
moral boundary and took sanctuary in an uninhabited realm and
discerned my feral dreams. With every stroke, I feverishly explored
every obscure corner of my manic imagination and transcribed its
unspoken discoveries. Throughout the dark hours of solitude, I
embarked upon a sinful journey into the depth of indulgence, flirted
with fire, touched the untouchables and desecrated the very symbol
of reverence.
Audaciously I travelled through the magical spheres of ecstasy
and explored the exotic realm of uninhabited bliss until I reached the
climax in my text. I sighed in relief and clicked the print icon and
spilled the product of my self-gratification on the paper.
My dazed glance was fixated on the flood of document rushing out
of the printer stained with another capricious indulgence of a
scoundrel mind. Hardly I managed to release my numbed fingers off
the enticing letters on the keyboard and dropped my exhausted
hands clumsily in my lap. I craved for a cigarette before I was thrown
into a catatonic state until the sharp point of the first ray of the
morning sun put a period on the last sentence of my latest nightly
debauchery.