The needle tore a hole, an exquisite red. By this point, it's not just recreational use, but it's an old, familiar sting. Now, it is an attempt, admirably executed, if a little haggard in concept, to kill it all away. And yet, I remember everything.
As the Opal takes effect, I start to wonder about what I've become. Introspection is something unaccustomed. After a point, you don't want to know who or what you are. My mind wandered back, to before the water, the red horse, the first evangelical church of plano. I had a friend, but I struggled to remember her name. I remember the face but I can't recall the name. Dammit, whatsername. She'll not be the death of me.
She had gone away, to some fancy school, about the same time I went away. It all goes away, in the end. And I had a dude, and I told him, I told him he could have it all. My empire of dirt. All of it. Not a single field unsalted.
"I will let you down- I will make you hurt," I whispered, the weight of my actions an allegorical crown of shit -paralleling Jesus' crown of thorns- as I set upon this liars chair.
The high drifted over me, above these broken thoughts that I can't repair. It's not like a crawling sensation, or anything i'd care to remember (not that I can) but the feelings disappearing- oh god it's like death but you're still moving. And all this, it leaves a stain, upon the soul- the stain of time.
I am still right here.
My Downward Spiral (tm) helmet is a comforting weight, as I push the motorcycle out of the garage. Maybe a little riding will help my mind?
A three fingered hand appears as I reach the speed of crying (120 mph, about).
HOLY SHIT IT'S RIGHT IN FRONT
Something was warm. Unpleasantly warm, uncomfortably warm. Not like shitting your pants, which I had done after one particularly nasty prank which somehow evolved into a home invasion, but rather it felt like I was burning myself with a lighter. All over my body, but i couldn't feel the frictive force of the skin starting to melt and peel that happened so often.
What the. . . . Something was getting brighter around me, faster than the sunrise would. Therefore, not natural.
Finally succuming to sixteen years of programming, I rose and screamed as the bones in my leg ground together and aroundwhat looked like a wooden timber. It was hard to tell though, there was smoke of a largeboned (read, thick) nature.
Mode: Black Me Out.
I don't ever wanna feel that way anymore, I don't wanna feel that weak and insecure.