From the Murks of the Sultry Abyss

Smoke rolls off my tongue, into gray cotton clouds that disperse in the air around me. The music pounds its hypnotic beat in my ears. The vibrations travel up my spine and beckon me to dance. My knees hurt, the dry blood feels rough against my tender flesh but I ignore the throbbing pain, each step causes the wound to rip open once more and begin to bleed. I press myself against the stranger that has me by the waist. He’s drunk just like me, only I have lost control. All I want is to be loved; all I want is for his hands, so strange and new to hold me. I want his hands to explore every crook and cranny of my broken body. Let him lick my wounds, let him feel inside the tender bleeding flesh; let him taste the iron in my blood. I want him to see me, I want him to taste my ash filled mouth. I want him to be my venom. He smiles as I grind my hips into his. I am starting to forget his name, or how I met him…

I wake up, and I feel my body revolt against the soiled sheets, the vile rises up my throat burning the soft ridges as it rises. I scramble to my feet, and tear open the large wound on my knee; I burst through the open door and find the bathroom where I vomit the alcohol from last night into the filthy basin. I breathe and cause myself to throw up even more. My stomach quakes beneath my skin; I wipe my mouth on my arm, and flush the remains. I am getting worse, my ribs are poking out, they pierce through my skin indenting themselves through my clothes, my eyes, precious and ever blue are now dead hidden under the smeared layer of charcoal black. I cough and spit into the unknown pale pink sink. I rinse my mouth and wash my arm and face. I watch the remains of last night swirl down the drain and all I can think of is “fuck, I need more drugs…”