semi-narrative

His mouth tasted like plastic and vomit. What did i get into he thought without wanting to know the answer. He tried to sit up, but pain flowed like a river through his veins. His own blood tearing him apart from the inside, trying to escape through the temples. He fell back down defeated, and waited for death or sleep, whichever came first.

***

...of course it was sleep, always sleep. He awoke to the sound of midday traffic and construction. A solid 2 hours of sleep, wow. Maybe i should stop this.
But what then? Bed early, up early, bored early, drunk early.
Yeah, you're probably right, jackass.

***

the first drag of the first smoke of the day. he's suddenly aware of a large amount of mucus obstructing his breathing. With a little coaxing, his airways are open, ready for the day's onslaught of carcinogenic chemicals and blistering heat. Is that half a drink?

***

he's dirty, and he knows it. he just doesn't care. sure, he could cleanse himself, shave even. But why? So he could smile at his own reflection for a day? The dirt comes back, the effort would be wasted. Evade the dishes for another day, find that last clean pair of socks. Get fucked up and watch tv.

***

he frantically reaches out. blindly probing with shaking hands into familiar darkness. The icy cold hum of the processor fan replies "You are alone". He puts on the first coffee of the day, opting for stimulation over sleep. "I forget better when i'm tired anyway" he thinks to himself, smiling at his own wit. But anyone that cares to look can see the smile is sad.

***

all of a sudden, he can't breathe. everything seems to get loud and frantic, as though competing for his attention. The words are lost, but the tone cries "ME ME ME!" His mind swims on rough seas, barely able to keep from going under. Waves crash, lights flash, the wind howls. The world seems to be building to a horrible crescendo and then...

***