Butterfly

  They're passing around a torn off piece of kitchen foil with a brown blob on it. I know exactly what it is, I'm fixed on it. I try to hide my impatience as it slowly glides around the circle. Eventually a man passes it to me and I snatch it from his possessive looking hands. A man I don't know holds the foil and lighter and I inhale the smoke greedily through a tube that moulds to my fingers with an obscure perfection. Somebody clasps sweaty hot hands around my weakened brain and numbs all the pain that existed within the contorts of muscles, and corrupts everything negative into nothingness. I'm whole again. My eyelids and eyes falter without mercy and fall to the ground and then a thick dark sludge drips over my eyes and I begin to feel all warm and blind and then, I see old battered hands coiled around my brain.
  It feels like I throw up when I imagine the coarse fingertips penetrate further into the core of my mind, but it's the nicest kind of vomit. It's almost like the sick is happy too and it spurts, spews and spumes out dancing. The palms loosen their torturous grip casually and a small butterfly with brown wings and yellow antenna appears between them from where my brain once was. I don't wonder where my minds gone, I assume I lost it ages ago. The hands are still coming apart, slowly blossoming like a bud, their pulsating petals carving images as they do so. The butterfly flutters care-free for a few seconds until it is snatched into a bleak empty jar. The jar falls quietly through the thickness of the air, and lands with a thump a few yards in front of me on the cigarette burned floor.
  The butterfly tries desperately to escape its imprisonment and hammers its wings against the impenetrable glass. I cry by the murky container and stroke the side of the jar and whisper solemnly to the butterfly that everything's going to be al okay and that we'll get you out of this mess. Just as I start to fight with the lid, I am transferred into the winged creature, lost and stuck. I stare at my surroundings and furiously try to get them. But I can't, an invisible barrier stops me from breaking through, it follows me everywhere, stopping every move I make to try and get out of this. I begin to fall helplessly. My eyes start to droop. I feel dazed, and I hyperventilate terribly.
  I wake up to see a blank dull ceiling in front of me, I'm human. I turn to peer at where the butterfly was in the cage, my arm and shirt sticking to me from vomit and sweat. I think the butterfly won't be there, but it is, just not moving. I tap the glass but it stays still. I shake the glass, it stays still. It's not moving, breathing, living. I mourn for the butterfly and something clicks inside me, I am the butterfly. I'm trapped. I'm lost. I'm stuck behind a barrier, an addiction. I start to sob even more because I'm right. I'm stuck in this jar and I will die if I don't get out soon. The drugs are killing me.
  I make a pinky promise with the dead epiphany and murmur 'Okay, that's enough.'