A bottle of Jack Daniels tips bursting forth onto the floor Into a sea of blood like oil in the gulf. what is this I wonder?
A hand lies motionless atop
an ever-so-common combination
Of fluids floating like a ship;
mangled like a shipwreck with
fingers curled clumsily and crooked;
Cracked, grisly fingernails sprout around the nails that held you to the ground, until I ripped em out when you tried to shout for help; we create our own Hell, our own cell to sit in, well get in, like a Catholic confession, you'll be forgiven of your sins.
Still alive, you look up and see me coming at you with a hatchet, thirsty for blood like a starved shark. Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you. Relief spreads across your face like a wildfire doused in gasoline,
thank you. I promise I won't tell a soul.
I was more amused, seconds later, by the look in your eyes when I spontaneously decided to hack off your hand. Agh, agony. This is what you made me.
What the fuck is wrong with you?
Shut up bitch, I need a fix. I hack the hand more and chop it into chunks. I put the chunks into a grinder and grind it till it's dust.
What the fuck is wrong with you?
A little weaker this time. I have to hurry. I pour the dust onto a glass table, form and snort four lines and look you up and down, you're slowly bleeding out. The river of tears will drown you as you shout. I snort another line and feel a fucking rush; as you slowly fade away
I'm high on life.
