(no subject)
Then again, maybe it wasn't all my fault. Who the fuck really cares anyways? I mean, i's not like I really ever had anyone to begin with. This whole situation though. This whole fucking thing really was a nightmare waiting to happen. It was like some hilariously perfect cliché. The dark alleyway, the group of tough looking black kids leaning against the wall, the thickness of the smoke. I'm not sure that I could've written it any better myself. So why the fuck didn't I pay attention to it? The ending to all those stories is the same. Even in my case it was the same. So now I'm pulling myself up using the support pillar of the subway tunnel and a crutch and looking at my feet to see the combination of blood, urine, and vomit sliding all over my feet. It was then that I realized I was naked and that there was also semen mixed in with the trio of liquid on my feet. God damn it I love New York. I fucking love this fucking shit hole of a city.
I hear orgasms of whispers on the platform above me. I start laughing, then cringe and stop as I feel a broken rib jab into my lung. It was funny though. These upper east side bitches whispering at me in their Burberry coats and Gucci shoes wearing their pre-nup as a symbol of their social class. They probably don't even realize that just a few short hours ago, someone like me was driving around in a limo with their daughters fucking them one by one like it was a race. I wish I could've said something to them. I wish I could've screamed out how much money their kids give me for coke and heroin, ecstasy and weed. Hell I even have this one kid who buys a little of what I've dubbed “squirm.” It's this great concoction I thought up. Pretty simple really. 1 part cocaine, 2 parts speed, and then 1 part ambien or some other powerful sleep pill. You can snort it or smoke it or shoot it. But it makes your mind fuck out. This kid gets it in bulk. Spends about five or ten grand a week on it. I love it, he doesn't even realize he'll be dead in a week if he keeps it up. The coke just fucks you up like coke does, but then the speed and ambien counteract and your brain starts going crazy. It makes you hallucinate as much as LSD and makes you feel as good as heroin makes you feel. The only problem is, it kills you right quick. I mean no choice, drop-dead, sayonara killing. Plus, it's fucking addictive.
So like I was saying, I wished I could've screamed all this shit out. About fucking their daughters and killing off their sons. But I started vomiting again, and then I just flat-out passed out. I'm not sure it you've ever, actually, genuinely been on the verge of death, but let me set the record straight you don't see any kind of white light. And you don't have flash backs on your life either. In fact, you don't really do much of anything, really. You see darkness, and then you either wake up, or you don't. I got to wake up.
I finally woke up in a hospital, IV inserted, artificial lung pumping hard, a donors blood dripping into me... Haha, just kidding. I woke up where I passed out. You think those upper east siders were gonna jump down and drag me out of the subway tracks? Bullshit. Bull-fucking-shit. They left me, there and so I had to pull myself out of the track with a broken arm, shattered nose, at least 3 broken ribs, a fucked up lung, and a gash on my head that would've made Jesus himself be glad to wear that crown of thorns. There was something wrong with my leg to, but I had no clue what. It was almost like they had cut off all the muscles in my left leg. It took me a good hour to finally get out of the station and up onto the street. I was still naked so I was actually waiting for a cop rather than a taxi. New York's finest apparently weren't working that night. I hailed a cab with my functioning arm (I won't say good, nothing on me was good) but the fucker took off as soon as he saw the condition I was in.
I had to walk back to my apartment, so I started walking. Well, limping and dragging really. I was probably a pitiful sight to see. Ithink it was about 3 AM when I started walking and about 5 when I got to my apartment 30 blocks down. I realized I had no keys, but I was pretty sure those black fucks would've left my apartment wide open after they'd take everything. I buzzed some random chick to let me in, she did after I said I was dying. I made it into the elevator before I collapsed for the 3rd time tonight. This time, though, I woke up someplace different. Apparently this chick hauled me into her apartment and called someone to come pick me up. I woke up in her apartment though. In a bathtub, with ice-cold water all around me.
“What the fuck...” I mumbled.
I heard a gasp. Or maybe it was a giggle. I wasn't quite sure but it came from the same voice on the intercom. The one who buzzed me up. I tried to pull myself out of the water but found that both my arms were useless, and only one leg worked. So i pushed with that leg until I could see the chick.
She was standing in the doorway looking terrified and content all at once. Whatever she was feeling, she looked good regardless. I slid back down into the water and she laughed at me. She fucking laughed at me.
I hear orgasms of whispers on the platform above me. I start laughing, then cringe and stop as I feel a broken rib jab into my lung. It was funny though. These upper east side bitches whispering at me in their Burberry coats and Gucci shoes wearing their pre-nup as a symbol of their social class. They probably don't even realize that just a few short hours ago, someone like me was driving around in a limo with their daughters fucking them one by one like it was a race. I wish I could've said something to them. I wish I could've screamed out how much money their kids give me for coke and heroin, ecstasy and weed. Hell I even have this one kid who buys a little of what I've dubbed “squirm.” It's this great concoction I thought up. Pretty simple really. 1 part cocaine, 2 parts speed, and then 1 part ambien or some other powerful sleep pill. You can snort it or smoke it or shoot it. But it makes your mind fuck out. This kid gets it in bulk. Spends about five or ten grand a week on it. I love it, he doesn't even realize he'll be dead in a week if he keeps it up. The coke just fucks you up like coke does, but then the speed and ambien counteract and your brain starts going crazy. It makes you hallucinate as much as LSD and makes you feel as good as heroin makes you feel. The only problem is, it kills you right quick. I mean no choice, drop-dead, sayonara killing. Plus, it's fucking addictive.
So like I was saying, I wished I could've screamed all this shit out. About fucking their daughters and killing off their sons. But I started vomiting again, and then I just flat-out passed out. I'm not sure it you've ever, actually, genuinely been on the verge of death, but let me set the record straight you don't see any kind of white light. And you don't have flash backs on your life either. In fact, you don't really do much of anything, really. You see darkness, and then you either wake up, or you don't. I got to wake up.
I finally woke up in a hospital, IV inserted, artificial lung pumping hard, a donors blood dripping into me... Haha, just kidding. I woke up where I passed out. You think those upper east siders were gonna jump down and drag me out of the subway tracks? Bullshit. Bull-fucking-shit. They left me, there and so I had to pull myself out of the track with a broken arm, shattered nose, at least 3 broken ribs, a fucked up lung, and a gash on my head that would've made Jesus himself be glad to wear that crown of thorns. There was something wrong with my leg to, but I had no clue what. It was almost like they had cut off all the muscles in my left leg. It took me a good hour to finally get out of the station and up onto the street. I was still naked so I was actually waiting for a cop rather than a taxi. New York's finest apparently weren't working that night. I hailed a cab with my functioning arm (I won't say good, nothing on me was good) but the fucker took off as soon as he saw the condition I was in.
I had to walk back to my apartment, so I started walking. Well, limping and dragging really. I was probably a pitiful sight to see. Ithink it was about 3 AM when I started walking and about 5 when I got to my apartment 30 blocks down. I realized I had no keys, but I was pretty sure those black fucks would've left my apartment wide open after they'd take everything. I buzzed some random chick to let me in, she did after I said I was dying. I made it into the elevator before I collapsed for the 3rd time tonight. This time, though, I woke up someplace different. Apparently this chick hauled me into her apartment and called someone to come pick me up. I woke up in her apartment though. In a bathtub, with ice-cold water all around me.
“What the fuck...” I mumbled.
I heard a gasp. Or maybe it was a giggle. I wasn't quite sure but it came from the same voice on the intercom. The one who buzzed me up. I tried to pull myself out of the water but found that both my arms were useless, and only one leg worked. So i pushed with that leg until I could see the chick.
She was standing in the doorway looking terrified and content all at once. Whatever she was feeling, she looked good regardless. I slid back down into the water and she laughed at me. She fucking laughed at me.