shit gets me high--that's what i can say for it. the emptiness in my stomach--the well digging down--the nausea--the aching won't leave me. it's profound--consuming. i feel like curling up, serpentine on the floor. crying. i need a thousand pounds of heroin. i need to drown myself in pills and liquor.
or maybe--maybe--i just need to get sober.
my head keeps going around like this.
sitting legs crossed inside my double-wide bedroom closet. shirt sleeves dangling, brushing by my ears. she's cooking a cotton shot while i'm nodding off, desperately crying a pathetic plea for her to tell me everything is okay.
