I stare at the ceiling waiting for dark, annoyed with the bits of light seeping through the cracks. My eyes itch and my brain burns, I feel the filth of the night before covering my flesh.
It happened again.
I almost didn’t make it.
I returned home just as the light was breaking over the hill above my home. My head had already begun to throb and my skin had already began to crawl. The lust of the night had long since worn off but the drunken stupor had left me confused and clumsy.
I really need to stop visiting the junkie sisters on fourth street. The conversation is never worth the buzz and the buzz is never worth the hangover. I fell the cobwebs flowing from my veins into my brain and dripping down the back of my throat spreading through my body like a plague. I just can’t seem to get back to that place. The way it was the first winter I found their love. We’d spend days upon days in the dark basement with our lungs on life support and our hearts beating poison. We would dance and sing and laugh and love and nothing ever felt permanent. It was all so fleeting and that is what I loved. I chased that feeling every night for years and the further away I get from that first winter the harder it seems to feel that way again. The further it seems I am away from those days. Its nothing now.
Just a sickness I can’t shake.
But I will go back again tonight
and I will feed once more.
Maybe tonight I’ll find what I’m looking for.
Maybe I’ll find some sort of fleeting moment to take my mind off the permanence of my affliction.
The disease that is my life.
My eternal life.