Can You Feel It?

Demons

I can't get that girl out of my head, every night this week I've dreamt about her. Her voice, while rough, is beautiful haunting it's the perfect mixture of Janis Joplin and Karen Carpenter. I have to have it. I have to have her. I'm at my regular doctor's visit, once a month I get stretched out on my shrink's couch for a "vitamin shot" and a talk therapy session. The shot is a mixture of barbiturates and mood stabilizers the talk usually centers around music industry gossip. I'm not here to get any better, I'm here feeding the interests of a rock and roll groupie with an M.D. I leave with another script. Demoral this time, to be taken with my phenobarbital and Clozapine. On top of the coke, on top of the scotch, on top of the copious amounts of grass...

And with all those stabilizers and relaxers, and downers, and anti-anxiety meds I'm still a neurotic mess. None of this shit makes me feel better long term, but I live in moments. And moment to moment the pills do what they're supposed to. Until I need another fix, or until I don't need to be sedated and I take enough coke to keep me awake for days at a time. That's when the voice gets stronger, that's when my obsessive behavior starts to take control. That's usually when me and Carol get into fights. Now, with as distracted as I am by my blonde angel, I can't be bothered with Carol Ann.

"Lindsey!" something slaps my right arm, it stings but I'm still comfortably numb from my visit to the doctor "What-" my voice sounds a million miles away, high above the earth and shrouded in cobwebs "I need money, I want to buy a new bag" distracted I reach into my wallet tossing a couple hundreds at Carol. If only to shut her up "I need more than that" blinking I turn to her "That's two hundred bucks" she rolls her eyes "No shit Sherlock. The bag I want is a Louis" a Louis? For fuck sake, I fish another hundred out throwing it across the limo seat at her "There, now piss off" she still looks disappointed but doesn't say anymore.

Lifting a small green bottle from between her clevage Carol takes a quick snort of her favorite mid-afternoon snack. Blow "Will you slow down with that shit?" eyes blood shot she gives me a poisonous glare "You should talk, you're stoned out of your mind right now. Let me guess you had your doctor's appointment today" there's not a single hint of compassion in her voice, I don't expect there to be. My head lolls to the side as I study her behind my mirrored glasses.

Why can't you meet a nice girl?

You want us to die without any grandkids?

You're so ungrateful, you only care about yourself. No wonder you can't find a decent woman. None will have you.

She wouldn't have you.

She doesn't want you

No one wants you

"I'm the one with the money sweetie, I can be as stoned as I want to be. Besides at least I manage to eat more than a fucking salad every day. You look like a God damn skeleton" the coke keeps her nice and emaciated, just the way she likes it I guess. I don't. Stevie is slender but curvy, her hips are flared, her breasts-well---and then of course her gorgeous ass. What I wouldn't give to fuck her hard and fast from behind, then slow and gentle while she rides me. A smile creases the corner of my lips, just the idea of having Stevie gets me hard.

"Blow me" stowing her green bottle Carol picks up a glossy magazine then laughs "Not a chance, you're too stoned to reciprocate" not true, I'm too indifferent to her to reciprocate "That's never stopped you before, you sucked me off to get your job" through gritted teeth she hisses at me "Fuck you! You fucking pig! Asshole!" her anger makes me laugh, and I turn away as the street goes by "I can have anyone I want Carol, anyone. Remember that" silent she turns the page in her magazine. After a fashion she lights a cigarette smoking and doing her best to ignore me.