Spinning, and spinning, I am spiraling down, my feet have envy for the hard, solid ground. I cannot differentiate the earth from the sky. I cannot tell what I feel, if I laugh, or if I cry. Do my eyes lack such focus they've no more ability to see? Perhaps it's not that I need the drugs, perhaps the drugs need me. I do so miss the innocence, the days of remembering "when". I miss the beauty I could once see within my fellow man. I find I'm wishing for the time when I was most free. I feel such longing for the days I felt beauty inside me. Now I'm cast in shadow, in a world I don't belong. A...
Dank thick perspiration drapes over our oily nervous skin like freshly salted slugs... No breeze the air is hot and still..
We carve up limes with a kitchen knife as the other commuters look nervous. We lick salt and do shots of tequila, the butterflies in our stomachs do back flips as we hurtle along in a tin tube following the ancient British mainline
The English weather has for once done us proud. This bank holiday weekend will be a story to tell our grandchildren.....If we survive.