“It’s gonna be alright honey, what’s your name?!” they half yelled in that purported scolding, direct, accusatory manner all attendants in those situations speak at you in as they frantically wheeled me on the dirty green gurney into the salvation ridden, hope filled sterile light of a cold ending. I knew I wouldn’t be gone, wasn’t my time, how I knew that escapes me, however; the demise of demise was and is daunting in the same way you have to continue to live after being diagnosed with HIV; plotting and calculated. Oh what I wouldn’t do for a warm breeze cooling me in a light curtain ocean hushed way, laid out solid on a junk filled cloud of Grandma hugs and promises to quit, but all I had was a stomach full of poison that was on strike from its duty and a charcoal smoothie lurking on the bed stand…..bleak didn’t begin to fucking cover it. I thought of you…..thought of you choking back tears that may or may have not been crocodile, who could tell, maybe me; given the proper apparatuses…you….counting…counting what? How many times the insurance ran out? Attempted suicides: that of your children, that of your wife, that of your unspoken wishes deep within but maybe not so much as to where I couldn’t see them. It would have been everything not to hear a removed Step Imposter say “This is going to be so expensive, how much longer can she keep doing this?” Loving sentiments would have been more opted for…not a beggar so I guess I get no choices.
The light of day does not exist when you are basking in the continual glow of a bill paying hovel known as a doppelganger for helping people on their way to here, there, the next and the now. I never fucking pray, not going to start now. Pockets are never deep, not when it comes to these things, hell, no one would want them to be. No daughter of mine, no daughter of mine will have broken veins, fractured jaw, numerous times over, broken everything. It’s a shame, it’s always a shame ain’t it?
I ripped the IVs out and went down the hall until it wasn’t blurry anymore and called TJ. He came picked me up and dropped me off at the house. No one was home. Made the call, pulled on an old Misfits shirt, brown jeans that use to pass for black that now barely passed for pants at all, Docs with duct tape holding them sort of together and made the longest 3 block walk to his house to get right with the cards that were dealt her. He opened the door swinging his cock back and forth in a Chinese New Year Dragon manner. She glanced down, opened the door, said congratulations and went upstairs. He had her set up already. She sat on the end of the bed and called out to heaven and it answered in the form of the Lion King and a fresh spoon with blue flowers on the handle. He rambled on about recent exploits and all the other shit insecure boys holler about to make the real object sit up, but she didn’t; she slumped down and asked where his slingshot was. They lobbed his Mother’s eggs into neighboring yards and chain smoked. When the eggs ran out, so did her strength and she bid her dick swinging pal farewell.
Back at the temporary shelter, no one was home still. She thought about the baby she had handed away not too long ago and felt that it was wrong that she continued to breathe when part of her was ambulating about completely independent of her. Not right, ever. She wasn’t right either, not after that, even now….At best, she felt the pamphlet way at times and that put a little cut on the travesty, but not nearly enough, not enough to keep her from writing this, yeah? Peanuts only fit in your arm for so long and then they get further and further away, she knew that every day, all day.
Was there, is there a quiet time in her life approaching, steady like approaching, approaching proper? She wasn’t sure, but she knew it was different, different in an unstoppable, can’t do shit about it kind of way. Sickness provides ways out sometimes, not every time and certainly not hastily, but eventually it does and this was a teetering precipice of curiosity pregnant with solace laced, incanted surety. This would be the way, this had to be; it was the only green light that had been this blaring in her entire life, well….this and that blue eyed Necromancer….brass tacks were looking more and more inviting. That charcoal seemed far but not nearly as far as her destitution of insanity; look who’s got a bone…..fight me for it and it will be the last you encounter. Trays up cunt.
