Little Whispers

Head lolls and bobs in a trance, possessed. Glazed eyes remain fixed on a small shining object in a cheap neon case. Like a train it hits, sending me straight into the shadow realm. Violent urges consume a typically well adjusted mind, taking a death grip. Shatter the plastic prison and set your precious free. You can’t just leave it trapped in there can you? When was the last time you enjoyed some quality time together? Don’t you miss it? Wasn’t it the thing that dreams were made of?

Shivers radiate through a sticky body beginning to drip with sweat. A familiar taste appears on my tongue and its sweet nectar. Lick my lips, savor the flavor, pray that it lingers forever. My eyes roll back allowing myself to worship and revel in the practice once more. Fall to my knees and throw my arms open wide, letting each and every sensation take hold of me. Cold, tender touches on dead skin, bringing forth life. Rushing rivers of rose dripping into cracked blistered lips. Zapping adrenaline through a stiff corpse, delivering a rush of power. The rush… the rush…oh please come back to me… I’d do anything for another taste, I’m desperate…

Muscles begin to spasm and facial nerves tweak. Just a taste, just a taste, no one will know. Calloused fingers quickly scrape against mangled arms. A road map to Hell is carved into traumatized flesh. Inside veins, muscles, and nerves cry for mercy, but it was never shown. Instead, countless entries abused to exhaustion. Was there any innocent flesh left?

An entire being fights convulsions from a body craving what it can no longer have. What once quenched and sustained has been dropped in the sands of time. An addiction plagued soul screams and thrashes, refusing to let it be. No, no, we need it. We can’t live without it, its thing keeping us going. Go, hurry, nourish us, don’t let us starve. What are you doing? We’re malnourished enough, do it! Stop being a punk and do it! You’re shutting down! Could a pulse be found?

Quaking hands, queasy soul, and eyes still fixated on the locked treasure. It’d be so easy, just take that cage and beat it open like a neanderthal. Reap the spoils and smash anyone in the way. All the hiding spots littered began to beg to be chosen for the hidden rendezvous I now found myself plotting. A dark Bathroom where a hidden pond offered wishes to be made for a drop. Closet with nothing but an Mp3 packed with metalcore as a witness. Even in the open where you spit directly in your loved ones’ faces, sneaking a fix under the table over tea and coffee. Anywhere is fine by me as long as the deed is done, even a dirty alley littered with discarded clothes, cigarette butts, and tall boy cans would suffice.

A poison spread through compromised neurons like wildfire hijacking my mind, my very being. Without warning there was only one thing that mattered now. Then again, wasn’t that the only thing that ever mattered to me to begin with? Then what pulled me away?

Stepping through the door to my memories all I see is darkness. So much of it has been blacked out and pushed into the void. Walking slowly straight, there’s a window. Upon looking inside, I see a vortex filled to the brim with memories swirling. Leaning in slightly is just enough to get sucked in and tossed through. All my eyes can catch is collage of times hidden in the same places, doing the exact same thing, entering the exact same trance. It seemed impossible to tell which time was first. The only times that were distinguishable were the times life was almost extinguished. Even then, once it happened enough times, it blends into the background with all the rest. You no longer recall blacking out grateful for death, only to wake up in a puddle and be forced to pull it together, again. Coming to in the back of an ambulance, knowing damn well that a cell with pentagrams carved awaits me.

The countless questionable choices made in the name of relief. That’s what happens eventually the rush dies and it’s relief you start chasing. Relief is what you’ll do much more for. Using something battered found discarded on the city street. Rust, disease, nothing when compared to sweet satisfaction. Who wants to live anyway? The single certainty I have is that death is my sole goal. There was nothing to care about and you might as well hit the gas and coast until you crash.

There was me, there was darkness, and my silver savior. No one else was considered, no one else is needed. We’re the only ones who can solve a problem instead of cause one. Alone in the night with no disturbances, quite a few miracles can be made, countless lives saved.

Back when it all made sense, that nothing mattered and it’s all meaningless. Frolic in fixations and turn into a puppet without pride, kowtowing to demons decorated in bling for a fix. A fix they will give, a fix you will give. Pleasure paid in eternal damnation. Never to escape, never wanting to escape.

Where am I? What’s going on? All I see is myself strapped to a tacky decaying couch from the days where hair bands rocked the night. My flesh melting with the fibers forever fused with the past. There is no use in fight, paralysis has taken me. The only light source is a small flame in the distance, the rest is an open void. My solitary request is a blunt while I’m consumed in a void I was born in.

Head spinning, the room spinning. Urges turn to anger ready to lash at anyone in range. How dare you be passive towards a mandatory function! Remedy this misstep at once! The darkness comes to the surface with me as I enter the daylight being tossed around. It pushes against my skin, eyes, and organs demanding freedom to take what it needs. A jail could be pulverized with one finger. Heaving breaths leave as I grapple the inner demon. Flipping over and over one another, slipping out of this hold, escaping that submission, all while dodging a monkey wrench tossed in from the crowd.

That’s when it begins…the whispers…all the whispering…Speaking life into worst fears, calling out short comings and a vice that call the shots. Calling me all the names I know I am I call the adjectives now. Each a disgusting descriptor of what I am, what I deserve, and why I do this. An intentionally extensive euthanasia sounds fitting. That’ll show me for existing. I should’ve thought twice before coming into this world.

Suddenly, the infatuation returned, and the resistance no longer existed. I was finally free to vindicate my vice and ride it to oblivion. It’d be effortless like the beat of a heart. Just as my hand reached out to at last give in and give into temptation, the universe stopped.

Stillness took over everything and a small sound whispered another soul’s presence. Movement entered the corner of impaired peripheral vision. In the time it took to blink and halt my hand, a pair of brown rutile quartz grounding me. The air was sucked from my body as small breaths whispered thoughts never conveyed with mere words.

With feet finding solid Earth to grip, a flick of the red reset, and I am renewed. A nurturing smile forms as I forget everything besides the precious gem in front of me. My vision clears and I can see a matching grin flashing under dark waves. Everything eases as a tiny touch presses my palm. Wrapping my arm around my muse, my reason, I kissed a chamoy cheek and merely said, “I was just getting your paints chiquita. Let’s go live a little.”