reverendbenzo

Upset stomach from either lack of sleep or too many cigarettes. Perhaps a combination of the two. Cheese and pasta soup meant specifically for kids only makes things worse.

Worn out magazines. Robotic voices on the answering machine swearing that "This is not a recording". They warn me of their urgency and make empty promises of low interest rates and a low APR for mere pennies. All I have to is press one for financial utopia.

A stand up heater works overtime spouting out all of the warmth it can muster. It's never enough. An old blanket with ancient and fading stains acts as a barrier.

Burns on graphic novels. Cheap cigarettes stolen from an unsuspecting victim. Someone knocks on the wrong door leaving me packages wrapped in brown electrical tape.

Dishes pile up in the sink. It doesn't take long. Even for someone who rarely eats. Canned vegetables line the pantry like half-dead soldiers. Their loyalty remains although they have long since forgotten the reason behind the war they are fighting.

Drowsiness. It begins in the back of the eyes and works its way to the lashes and spreads across the forehead and finds a home in the back of my neck. THe back and forearms soon follow suit.