kloiterra

often, a little bit of what can kill you
will make you feel more alive than the act of not dying.
junkie slugs don't shoot heroin or meth, they shoot up salt.
friday night, i believe a gang of slugs crawled into my belly
with their little bags of pharmaceutical-grade sodium chloride junk and overdosed.
fucking amateurs.
they let the candles burn down out as their bodies hissed and spewed.
saturday morning, i was suddenly violently ill,
i vomited mucus until the heaves were dry and i'd broken out in a cold sweat;
like a thousand ice-cold needles prickling my skin all over my back.
i had to change the locks.