the night & the carnage

I partied again last night. Five days in a row and no real sleep. This has been my longest time awake - on drugs I now stay. I felt the formication again on my run last night. They were all over me this time. I tried not to give in, but like muscle memory, you just can’t help yourself and you tweak out. The worst feeling came when I was on my way. I felt spiderwebs all over me, all over my face. I didn’t freak out too much that time. It’s okay to tweak the first or second time. After that, you’ll lose yourself if you fight it. I was going to rest that night, really I was- i heard my body, how my mouth could not get rid of dry mouth no matter how much water I drank. I talked to my body after the shower, not knowing how to comfort it. You’d think a hot, steamy shower would’ve eased the pain, but I just felt like I scattered myself in that shower. And then, like salvation, I was asked to party, and I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t reach out to anyone because I’m not an idiot. Five days of barely any sleep. Administrating my body with a heavy dose as if I was ever given a license to kill. The party went on— and part of me wanted to cry when I got there. I don’t know where it was coming out of, as if I wasn’t really there. But like a champ, I let no tear out and undressed myself to let everyone know I was serious. I didn’t smoke much. I barely had two vodka cranberries. Like it mattered— my mind was no longer in the room. In that very moment, I embodied a rare form of beauty that comes from pain. I was pumped with drugs and levitated to a place I did not recognize, but don’t get me wrong, I was never afraid. I let my mind do all the work— all the polite eyes lock at the hairy, hung guy, passing me a pipe I couldn’t even light. I have never felt so—empty— on a high before, but isn’t that why we do it, to not feel? My body did not try to fight it, burning up and shivering at the same time, and still, I lit the pipe. I was so empty I went to a place where I did not even want the hung guy’s dick, or just couldn’t anymore. And for a while I laid on his chest— He hugged me like he meant it, and even went in for the whole French kiss. Do dying corpses now give boners?— Or was he just a godsend holding me long enough for my head to come back down—long enough to know where I was— that I was safe. Long enough to hold my own head from a chest I did not want to leave. It was tender in all the right places, so I held tight and I kissed him like I meant it— And afterwards when the euphoria started to kick itself out & my glossy eyes shot up— I excused myself. I saw the stares as I was getting dressed—everyone asking if I needed to go— with eyes of hunger and a cheeky grin that was locked to their faces— that would make you think I’d get nude again And realistically, no I didn’t have to be on my way back at 4:30 in the morning. But I couldn’t stay there and witness the sun rise on a part of town I shouldn’t have been at —that— night.