alex (martyredbunny) wrote,

  • Mood:
  • Music:

shout when you wanna get off the ride

beep beep beep, waking you from your deluded daydreams. poison pumping into your veins, the nurse pushes the red liquid in slowly, the syringe stopper moving maybe a milliliter a minute. tingling fingers, burning burning veins you try to ignore, you try not to think of what you're thinking. bubbling flesh, blistering, horribly disfigured, you try not to think of bursting vessels, of blood pooling fast beneath your now too thin, translucent tan skin. you try not to worry yourself into nausea, but you move the trashcan a little closer, music blasting in your ears, your dad moves off his head phones and looks at you oddly. you turn it up all the louder. ears bleeding, yes that would be better, anything would be better than this slow weakening, you move and you feel it, your arm feels so heavy, so heavy, like all the muscles have been atrophied (i'm a spaceman!) or someone turned your bones to metal (i'm wolverine, i'm wolverine bitch.) you sit in the quiet little well lit room, the floral shapes on the lights pleasingly benign and you know what awaits you. days alone in bed, crying and screaming, cramping and vomiting, or wishing you could vomit, with water tasting like chemicals and your mind wandering and finding nothing entertain or pleasing or even worth the effort at all. except maybe making that walk to the bathroom to pee, and shower when it doesn't seem too difficult. alone, but for a tiny furry friend that lays quietly at my feet, not licking me like he knows my skin is coated in the drugs that make me sick.
  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.