The Aubergine

 
Pliant plastic skin, and purple veins
Reminiscent of her poisoned arteries
She fucking hates aubergines
She’s pushed through the worst of it now
Head pounding the toilet seat
Ignoring the self-loathing shit-talk in her head
It's worse than the vomit coming out of her mouth
Heart’s done pumping hard liquor through the veins

For now,
the light shifts a little

Color filters to the tiled floor
to which she is clinging
Salacious skin sucks
Salt away from her pores
Thrusting water, as an assault
All she can see is purple
like fucking aubergines
and the empty Meth’s bottles in the corner
as the thirst starts to build
in the back of her throat
once more