Burnt and wasted.
I lie as an insect does, the inside of my head a shell. A muscle on the back of my finger twitches, one beside my nose. My eyelid begins to flicker. I’m thinking that the bottle of Rumba looks almost transparent enough to see the level of liquid inside, I’m thinking of ways to survive for a week on twenty dollars, that the flecks of dirt on the window glass make an interesting visual distraction. I’m thinking that this is interesting; that my heartbeat matches the tempo of a song that I have stuck in my head, a song that I know not the title of, only hearing it weeks ago at a nightclub. I’m thinking to myself reasons why a New Zealand brand of vodka would choose a Scandinavianish name like Karloff.
All this I think to myself. I’m thinking to myself that sleep would be a very good thing indeed.
The roof of my mouth stings from the disinfectant agent in the alcohol. This is the small patch that peeled off after my pizza dinner. The acids in the herbs, perhaps, or the exothermic spices in the tomato sauce used in the base. It sounds worse than it actually feels. There is very little pain, only a scientific curiosity as I study the small, very clear piece of skin membrane that I had removed just behind the gums.
Posted by Dan @ 04:56 PM AST [Link]
Replies: 1 Comment
Dan, u freak me out no end! hehehe
I have absolutely no clue waht you are tlaking about. The only words i understood in that were pizza and vodka.
And i dont like the thought of you pulling membrane from your gums…urgh
I like cats
Posted by Sam @ 07/16/2002 07:00 PM AST