It's sinking in; I am drowning in it. The smell of the club is still on me. Freshly stale I sit before this shrine and push out words that will me to surrender, and go under. Medication- anti psychotic pro sanity pills. 300 miligrams of one and I am down for the count. My head feels like it is packed with cotton balls. My mouth is relaxed and refushes to shut, instead it hands like a door on abroken hinge. I've come undone.
I'm sane now right? The medicine is doing it's job. I no longer have to live alone in my shitty little box of a life, right?
My heart doesn't beat, instead it scraches at its cage, knaws away at first one rib then another; soon it will be free.
but what the fuck do i know i am high
-Adipose
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