Mark Li

18-06-2023

The steamy heat circling the beverage when approaching marks the respect of radiance that it elegantly demands. The earthy yet light aroma awakens the soul as it reaches the nostrils, one after another the senses turn their heads, mesmerized by the romantic scent accompanied by the gentle warmth of the winter’s Solis, the desire to acquire it slowly accumulates, like a feminine arm clinging onto the masculine side for comfort and stability, more and more of them clings onto the arm, gently shaking it, urging to fulfil the desire. 

The rationality reminds that substance in blood might well alter mood and decision-making as the spirit is inseparable from the body and the body is without doubt not a sovereign individual, but a set of systems vulnerable to external influences and stimuli, such that minimizing unnecessary stimuli was to be preferred and act upon, for the clarity of mind and the stability and ability of the body.

The senses continue to yearn for the beverage, and the masculinity and rationality gave in, “It’s not alcohol, and it’s not prohibited, yes?” That was the excuse to bypass the conscious deterring stance of rationality. “Yes, but it doesn’t mean…” The rationality responded, but was interrupted mid-sentence by the feminine flock of senses dragging the body across the halls to the controls of movement. The rationality was silenced after its misguided affirmation. 

The hand was raised to call for the drink, and the drink was delivered, one over another the senses cheered, and the grip loosened without a second thought. “Milk or sugar?” The head shook, and with warmth from the plastic vessel, the hands cherished the drink. The hot liquid touches the bare lips, “unbearable” was the first warning that came to mind, but with past experience the senses urged, “Be a man, drink it, it’s not that hot.” Followed by a cautious sip, the silky texture downed the rabbit holes of pleasure, flicking on delights here and there like Christmas lights, hot acidity hit the stomach, a little sunshine was impregnated within, “that sweet innocent little sunshine”, I thought to myself. 

Then another sip, this one wasn’t straight to the stomach, but tasted, thoroughly accepted as much as the faded heat allows, charred bitterness devoured the dried blank sensation, and the consciousness uttered, “over-roasted”. But yet, it was not accompanied by sourness. Just pure bitterness, interesting, I like the purity. 

Then, the substance seamlessly dissolves into the blood, and passing the threshold, the mind bursts into a hyper-state of consciousness and instability, fidgeting, craving for movement and output, like a boxer craving a solid hit in the stomach. I for one started to wonder why the motives behind so artificial can be so real and with the clarity of mind I was granted, I refrained from the impulsive pursuit of releasing energy but to look within. Staring into the emerging anxiety, anxiety without reasoning, like the fizzling of soda without the liquid. Just pure anxiety, without the necessary attachments, anxious energy without any thoughts, interesting, I like the purity. 

But that’s anxiety without purpose, no deadlines to meet, no matters in hand, just the succumbence to temptation. The fizzling of the mind pops out vague thoughts one after another, but trying to observe it in any way, it fizzles out like the wave nature of light under observation. 

Anxiety found its grip onto itself, the fizzling out of ideas, the inevitable loss of such precious possibilities, the endless popping of infant bubbles that I could never hope to recover or record, like gripping onto a lost dream, thousands of them all at once vanishing from the firm grip of your consciousness, “it is of incomprehensible importance” a voice recalled, but yet it is lost to the misty valley of the past, where light can’t shed, and no reflection to be had. Like stars fade out into the abyss, one after another, the abyss grows in silence, to the inevitable devouring of existence.