Me and the dragon can chase all this pain away.
Nausea becomes a part of me so inherently that I forget whether I am the nausea or if I really am me experiencing it. I mention to Carlene about how when once I took Hawaiian Baby Woodrose and I could not tell if I was thirsty, or if I was my thirst personified. Just like my dextromethoraphan force-fed self-execution, I can't remember anything when I sleep for twelve hours underneath my black comforter while the album Faith by the Cure repeats and repeats itself until I cannot tell what the songs have become. "The Drowning Man" and "All Cats Are Grey" feature prominently in my dreams. My hands shake when I awake. A dream addict. Well, I was always addicted to pain.
Time spent referencing House of Leaves. Trying to find a way into Truant.
the hours -- i cannot regret a sense of losing the hours but how they long they seem to last when not standing next to my heart-broken-joy-luck ocean, floating kelp hair; driftwood limbs; and eyes that well up from the very pit of the abyss.
How do you find me? I've only known one who could look into my very, very soul. Tell me, tell me how.
I am writing a small book of poetry called An Addict's Prayerbook. About certain forms of addiction. Addiction to sex, alcohol, opiates, religious ecstasy, masochism and so on.
Maybe this will help me fulfill my heroin-shiek William S. Burroughs/Jack Kerouac fantasies. Maybe it will give Eain a leg up in the world. Maybe, maybe.
Time spent referencing House of Leaves. Trying to find a way into Truant.
the hours -- i cannot regret a sense of losing the hours but how they long they seem to last when not standing next to my heart-broken-joy-luck ocean, floating kelp hair; driftwood limbs; and eyes that well up from the very pit of the abyss.
How do you find me? I've only known one who could look into my very, very soul. Tell me, tell me how.
I am writing a small book of poetry called An Addict's Prayerbook. About certain forms of addiction. Addiction to sex, alcohol, opiates, religious ecstasy, masochism and so on.
Maybe this will help me fulfill my heroin-shiek William S. Burroughs/Jack Kerouac fantasies. Maybe it will give Eain a leg up in the world. Maybe, maybe.