It’s not so much that I’m running from my past. I just need a clean break. The drugs were taking their toll. I’m trying the church thing. High on Christ, isn’t that what they say. So far, I’m not feeling it. What I am feeling are the cold evenings. I’m not feeling the warmth of H filling my throbbing veins. I’m not feeling my lungs relax after deeply inhaling a potent smoke. I’m not feeling the heat of a naked woman, hours after she happened to snort beside me. But the trembling, the lost memories, the doubting myself. Something had to give. So now, I keep my nicotine close. I go to church each time the doors open. I pray for release, and I rub my aching veins.
April 3, 2012
This entry was posted on Tuesday, April 3rd, 2012 at 3:58 pm and tagged with addiction, church, drugs, fiction, new beginnings, partying, religion, self discovery, sex, the Womb, writing and posted in Bios from the Womb, Jareb, the Womb (a novel). You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
- the Womb (a novel)
- 6,522 hits