Delirium tremens
The record is skipping. She can not bring herself to rise and halt it. "like cheap whiskey, like cheap whiskey, like cheap whiskey..." There is a sinking in the bottom of her stomach. A relentless spinning in her head. A lurch in her vision every few moments. She clamps her eyes shut against the pain, but the spots on the back of her eyelids dance; worsening her condition. The phone rings sharply through the lonely apartment. She startles, nearly vomiting as a result. But she reaches behind her head, grasping for the phone with sweaty palms. She clamps the phone in her fist, white knuckle tight. She hits "TALK." "Hello?" She manages weakly.
"HI! this is community services for the blind!" A shrill, all to cheerful voice speaks through the line. She hits "TALK" again. She replaces the phone in its cradle and gently rests her head back onto her pillow.
Suddenly, her body seizes. Still conscious, she seizures violently. Until unconscious bliss is reached. Within her black underworld, she feels bugs...everywhere on her face. She attempts desperately to scream, with no reward.
Silence. The apartment is cold and mildewed. Lonely.
The needle of the record player continues its journey along the hairline indentation of the record.
like cheap whiskey, you're alway there.
"HI! this is community services for the blind!" A shrill, all to cheerful voice speaks through the line. She hits "TALK" again. She replaces the phone in its cradle and gently rests her head back onto her pillow.
Suddenly, her body seizes. Still conscious, she seizures violently. Until unconscious bliss is reached. Within her black underworld, she feels bugs...everywhere on her face. She attempts desperately to scream, with no reward.
Silence. The apartment is cold and mildewed. Lonely.
The needle of the record player continues its journey along the hairline indentation of the record.
like cheap whiskey, you're alway there.