drowned energy » poetry

Shiver

I can’t sleep at night. The feeling of need, coursing through my blood, causes me to shiver. I try to overcome but it’s hard for me to overcome this pain that I feel with every inch of my body.

Last week, I went to the hospital. The nurses held me down and told me that I was in God’s hands. Oh, those ignorant nurses. One of the nurses had those spontaneous oceanic eyes that led me down this road in the first place.

The doctor told me that if I continues to use, death would be at my front door with a free ticket to hell. Thing is, that’s what I was aiming for. I told myself that I had to stop because life can get better if I tried.

But I didn’t listen to them or myself of course, for as soon as I was discharged, I scurried down to that traphouse down on 5th Street and begged for more.

“But, ay, what’s the deal with the hospital band ‘round yo wrist?” The dealer spoke, “I ain’t sellin’ no tar to no recoverin’ fiend.” But he’d sell anyways, he didn’t care about the wellbeing of his customers but the money they had in their pockets. .

I ended up in an alleyway, despite having a home of my own. Maybe it was the feeling of the damp cobblestone and the stench of wrongdoing that made me enjoy my experience altogether. However it was something about that certain day that stopped me from using.

I went to my apartment and sat in a scalding hot shower, trying to get rid of the urge to consume.

I cried, but I couldn't tell if it was from my pesky withdrawals or from realizing  how pathetic my life had gotten. I lost what I had because I lost the one I loved and I was constantly reminded of my demons as my forearm reminded flushed from forced entry.

That how the cycle of using ended up anyways.

I found a pair of fresh pajamas and gotten myself dressed without fainting. I looked in the refrigerator and internally thanked my parents for still sending enough money in the mail for the tar, a place over my head, and food.

Despite the broken thermostat being turned to its highest extent, I felt a certain coldness and pain as goosebumps graced my skin.

So now, I wake up with a shiver, I go to sleep with shiver, and I can barely talk without a shiver in my voice to save my life. My whole world is a blur, I’m finally able to encounter reality. My euphoric high is gone and everything that I thought was real was just a metaphor.

Those talking butterflies were just ants, the strands of glitter were just cobwebs, and the rainbow over my head was just a crack in the ceiling.

And as I think of this, I shiver once again.

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