My self- awakening |
Somebody’s apartment anyone’s apartment any Friday night 8 shots of Jäger 12 Bud Lights an 8 ball blown- I crave more. Only 20 mg adderalls at this party. I pay a girl, I think her name is Molly; follow hardwood hall to bathroom door. Bony kneecaps are exposed by fitted, torn jeans, I see a wounded dog in eyes of Frat boys. Two blondes exit the bathroom, green eyes frosted like frozen swamp. I enter; throw my protruding spine against the door, use my 105 pounds to push it. Its rusted knob locks no one can get in. A toothpaste spotted mirror hangs against chipped, yellow wall. It snaps my picture I lower my head in disgust. Pulling from my denim pocket (my most recent purchase). Cold, anxious, my body won’t stop shaking. Jesus Christ, I can’t stop shaking. Burt’s Bees Chap Stick crushes these pills to fine blue powder. No dollar bill to roll my nose to edge of yellow sink. I inhale hard- again. My nose numb from this morning I feel nothing, bittersweet a drip coasts down my throat. My left nostril sniffling afraid loose powder will fall out. I check the sink edge for leftover blue crystals. Couple hundred mgs adderall blown minutes pass body drops to floor-- I stop shaking, stomach stops rising up and down, relieved tonight I’ll be found out. |