Inside the creative mind of a junkie-pt. 1 (also known as:) 'What it's like to have a head that's filled with poetic nonsense instead of anything useful, like the ability to do long division or cook a roast before 10p.m.....'

It's been a rough week.
It's already almost eleven a.m. and though I drifted a few times in and out of consciousness, I haven't slept since the few hours I managed to tack down from the night before.

The house is empty, finally. No wayward boys looking to alleviate loneliness, no grieving widow awake at 4 a.m. with the contents of her purse scattered across the couch; desperate to find order amongst it all. It seemed as if she could organize her junk, her mind would follow suit.
I've been trying that method for years; I'm still waiting for it to work.

There's a dead mouse lying in the hallway courtesy of my cat, eviscerated, with several inches of open air between it's body and head. All that's missing is the word "avarice" spelled out with his intestines. The thought always makes me chuckle a little- my cat playing Kevin Spacey's character in Se7en.

I hope that I haven't stepped in it, though. I just washed these sweatpants. I envisioned mouse guts in between my toes.

Time for a dose of inspiration.

Listening to the clock tick, I sit in my red chair in my red bedrooom and take the loaded syringe out from between my teeth. I'm thinking about things I have written in the past as I hold it up to the light for inspection. Take me to the well. Give me something good. My stomach rumbles with hunger and I imagine it eating me away. Or at least just the parts of me I don't like.

It's quiet for once.
This isn't the roaring quiet that takes up space like a pile of gravel that needs to be leveled, nor is this the quiet that gets only a word or two in before the screaming silence of my mind's idle drowns it out.
It is peaceful quiet, wonderful and fleeting. The still and unclutterd soundscape abides room for the distant roar of a passing airplane to bounce softly around the airspace.
I ready a vein.
Here we go.

(...to be continued...)

Inside the creative mind of a junkie-pt. 1 (also known as:) 'What it's like to have a head that's filled with poetic nonsense instead of anything useful, like the ability to do long division or cook a roast before 10p.m.....'

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