Sat down. Swilled my breakfast. Took a shoot and a sip.
"God, what a night."
Walk into the bathroom. Pop a few. Look at the mirror. Spit.
"G'morning, Saint Jimmy."
Good? ********. Can't get him out of my head. Go about my day. He's still there. Can't function.
"Hey there, Jimmy."
Stupid girls. Stupid studio people. Piece of s**t self. Wander home. Dream about him.
My real drug. My failed suicide attempt. Jesus of Suburbia.
Silver Nephilim Community Member 
|
|
