The Drugs In me

Anxiety

Rex absolutely hates going in public. The eyes that follow, gazes running along the pale skin. He hated the murmurs. He felt the whispered gliding down his spine like cold, calloused finger tips, feeling along for his final breath. If he had a choice, he would just stay cooped up in his hazy room. Probably watching porn. But Rex hated who he was. He hated the addiction coursing through his veins, pushing his heart closer to the edge. Beat. By. Beat. There was a better life for him, and he wanted it so much, but the drugs had him in a headlock.

His feet, clad in wearing brown leather, shuffled on the cold tile of the local grocers. His shirt hung loosely on his skeletal frame, hiding the hollows between his bones, and his pants hung low on his hips. Eyes followed him as he ghosted through the isle looking for bread. Bread was a necessity, along with milk and miscellaneous food items. He had everything he needed to get by this month, toiletries and some food, but he needed bread. The whispers riding on the air condition chilled him to the bone and stirred the beast in his belly. Anxiety reared it's ugly head and roared with an intensity that sent the bones on Rex aquiver. His breath caught in his throat, for he knew that if he didn't check out he'd have a full blown panic attack in the grocery store. Fuck the bread.

~

Rex stumbled inside, arms weighed down by the bags, plastic wrinkling between clenched fingers. The second the door closed he collapsed, the bags scattering. Random items fell to the floor, along with his tired body. He crumpled into a heap, devoid of pain, of sorrow. His heart a desolate wasteland only colored by need and even more shadowed by the hurt and regret. His body trembled as he clutched at his shaking limbs, and tears streamed down his face in a ceaseless river. Before he knew it a needle was pumping ice into his veins, freezing over his night yet somehow igniting the fire in his eyes.