Pyshic Soup

The Mans story

 Psychic Soup

How do I explain this? For some to walk though air, well seems to be, well easy. In fact if you go higher you would notice how much easier it is. Go deeper and you would notice how it had become harder to move through something that doesn’t seem to be there most of the time. I talk in riddles, without a clear answer.  

What would happen if the air around was not as clear as you though it was and I’m not talking about pollution. What if all the signals that bombard our modern world, radio, television, WiFi, GPS. Ok you get the idea, but what would happen if you could receive all of those and many more all the time, how would you function ? How could you know what was important and what was not? 

I struggle in enclosed spaces. By some quirk of fate, I hear, or feel all the thoughts of those around me, not just the nice ones, or the trivial ones, but the deepest darkest ones, those thoughts which in the middle of night we wake up screaming from. All those I hear, everything all of the time.

Being stuck on a tube train in the middle of summer is my version hell, so guess where I’m? Stuck down my own version of Dante’s hell, with everyone’s deepest thoughts screaming at me, inside I yell in pain, begging please for something to help ease this madness of being this deep.   

Suddenly I get the feeling of a gentle, beautiful mind reaching out. Like being in the most, soft gentle embrace I have ever had. Kindness and peace seems all around. Never before have I ever had such a thing happen. I’m left wondering how and why this could happen, who could reach out and touch my tainted heart.

Now not even now sure where I’m, only the train slowing down brings me to my senses. All my physical senses become focused on a hand touching mine. The embraced still holds me firm, now it has a deeper edge, almost as if an angel reached out to touch my heart.  But an angel with an erotic edge, for my body is also responding, leaving me breathless and excited, as if the angel has an erotic edge, one which touches the very essence of my masculinity.  

 Becoming lost in the fog of pleasure, endless, intense and passionate, I travel to places and see and understand things beyond my wildest dreams. But as soon as this moment has arrived, the train stops, the contact lost. Feeling disorientated I turn and the lady beside me stepping off the train.

As the doors close, our eyes meet and a level of understanding passes between us, for we have  both shared a beautiful experience, leaving us both better joyful, but with a bitter sweet edge, for to find such beauty is a gift to lose it, is bitter sweet. 

In a single moment now she has gone, lost in the crowds of a busy underground platform, deep underground. I start to feel the others around once again, but now it is less of a problem, for in those few endless magic moments, somehow she managed to heal my broken heart, add a filter to the gift, which allows me to function once again.  Dante’s hell has lost its flame.