Judge Not

There are always haunted memories. As long as I've come up short, I've had to bear them. Grant was harder on himself than I was. He smoked a lot of ganja, though, so depending on his state and fill, he seemed to be alleviated. I chose smack and swimming. Nothing better than injecting a spoonful of heroin and swimming 100 laps or a mile in the ocean. Blood in the water, I would lose gravity in bouyance and make the domain my own. Sure, it's a bad idea, because if you overdose you'll likely drown, but "bad" is a relative term. Bad compared to going to the local beach resort and eating all manner of grease and sugar? Bad compared to making women your god? Bad compared to what?

I survived, and after I'd leave the water with red eyes, the blacks of which were points of miosis leaving the green in my eyes to contrast the red, I'd go look in the mirror. Not at my body, but in my dead eyes. Full of morphine and endorphin, there wasn't much to be afraid of. My stomach would settle and let me know it was time to feed. "Brainssss" would be great, but the nearest I could come to that would be blood pudding or kidney pie. Only then, with my reptilian appetite aroused, could I even stomach the sight of such disgustation. Then, a cigarette to tame my lungs.

Afterwards, the day usually would drag. When the sun past his acme, I would rest in cool air under blankets and my skin and body would know an unearthly peace. I would wake up soon, slowly and easily, and read or write, listening to music, stare out the window at the circus below, or the window in the ceiling at the sky sliding by. The days were eternal, even though the narcotics had worn off, and I knew that the world and her hearts had nothing more than there ever was. From here, I could daydream about physics, geometry, and energy.

Eventually, I would smoke too many cigarettes and the spell would be broken. Time had his part, but I punctuate time with cigarettes, and that was my meter. When the sun went down, I would feel lonely again, and go for dinner. I chose the most dismissable and unpretentious space, an aerodynamic diner, to eat. It was regular. It was good.