Meth

can't make him move away fast enough

stupid fucking gazelle

sobbing into convulsions
falling from whatever it is

"want some?"

blink; blink again
shrug

"you know - you can shoot it straight up your ass?"

I think about the needle
you can tell I am thinking about the needle and you snort:

"not like that, dumb fuck"

you scrabble through your bag
you throw stuff about

"like this"

you hold it up like some prize

although it's just kind of regular

"it's cool, you don't feel stuff so much - you know like - numb"
you say the word "numb" again because you like the way it feels in your mouth I guess

you start to say something else but it slides off before it gets anywhere:

"I - uh"

you glance at Early and another man (I don't know who he is)
nervous and scratch your leg
your legs are bare with these striated grey patterns like old dust and cobwebs

you notice I'm staring and rub at your knee, self-consciously
(what seemed uncanny is, in retrospect, mundane; the marks left by the large plaster that had previously wrapped your left knee)

you throw a cigarette packet vaguely in Early's direction

"stop filming him you shit, he's not even awake yet"

this is where I might fall in love