i am the definition of deviant, player

by Angela Thomas

salvia dripped off my tongue like a lurid
and hard candy, balsmic vinegar coating
a soft and fleshy peice of meat. and my mouth
is dry like the cracklins, the bits of the flesh
and my teeth want to tear at everything
around me. i had to the intense desire,
on the shrooms, to destroy. to take something
apart and break it down. i did. and then
i hit the blunt one more time and fell
into the couch, my nose covered in fine
white warm and asprin tasting powder.
(but i lied about the last part, at least
with regards to yesterday.) then, the wine!
oh, it flowed from the bottles like a water
fountain during fourth grade recess and
i was very very thirsty. so i drank, i smoked,
i consumed, making something and then
breaking it down, until the room had seemed
to move on the axis, i couldn't feel my feet
and the only thing that mattered in the whole
wide world was that i had forgotten how
to breahe. i heaved and sighed and tryed and
found that i had simply forgotten, as easy
as leaving the laundry in the washer, it had
fallen out of the box labeled "you need this
to live" in my head. an hour later, someone
was shining something in my eyes, only it
was brighter than anything you could ever
imagine. god had turned on the sun at 6:17
this morning and i woke up just in time,
the first day of classes began at 7.


Posted on 01/06/2005
Copyright © 2023 Angela Thomas

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