From the House of God, to
a House of Spirits.
Alcohol numbs the fear
into a syrupy soup of dullness.
Mommy and daddy had
filled up the account.
I waste away my money, as
my mental state slips to wasted.
The visions blur, and
then fade.
When sobriety threatens
to creep back up on me, the shadows erupt.
My brain… my brain is
floating in an eighty proof sea of numbness.
The fear leaves me, if
only for a moment.
I smile. How long has it
been since my last smile?
A man approaches me. His face is blurry, his speech the same.
He calls me pretty.
I was pretty, once. I was pretty before the messages, and the
pictures. I was pretty before the lists,
the videos. I was pretty before I some
how got caught in this screwed up game.
I fuck him on the sticky
floor of the men’s bathroom.
No rubber needed when
your life is a ticking clock.
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