syd
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Feb 18, 2005
- Messages
- 273
Lighting touching your index and middle finger to your purple and black cheek pains you enough to vomit into the sink, despite your morning shot of dope. The lurch only brings about a seemly never ending cycle of heaves and convulsions that surprises you nose, mouth and varies other wounds to begin bleeding again.
Tears mixed with blood gore and god knows what else pour down your ruined face. You take your first good look at yourself in the fifthly mirror and it’s not quite as bad as you had imagined. Your right eye is almost useless. Swollen almost complete shut you can only see the vaguest of blurry images through it. That would be from the baldheaded bouncer you took a wild and completely misguided swing at with your empty beer bottle. He retaliated by almost putting your eye down your throat. But Christ that motherfucker could throw a punch.
Your left cheek is much worse. Almost certainly broken or cracked or shattered or whatever happens to check bones when they hit the asphalt with nothing to comfort their fall. The pain is unrelenting. As if someone is constantly rubbing your shattered bones into broken glass while pouring gasoline into the open lacerations.
With hospitals out of the question you can only shoot more dope and eat handfuls of oxy to try and put a dent in the agony and pray you pass out.
As with most blackouts you have no idea what happened or how you ended up in this state. For fucks sake The ___End was your favorite watering hole. You were liked there…or at least tolerated. There are flashs of yelling obscenities and throwing drinks and being forcefully placed onto your stool, but that’s about it.
You do remember scattering lines on the bar and ___furiously telling you to at least take that shit to the alley or the bathroom.
Now you’re no longer welcome at the ___. Just one more place you can’t show your shitty fucked up face,
Tears mixed with blood gore and god knows what else pour down your ruined face. You take your first good look at yourself in the fifthly mirror and it’s not quite as bad as you had imagined. Your right eye is almost useless. Swollen almost complete shut you can only see the vaguest of blurry images through it. That would be from the baldheaded bouncer you took a wild and completely misguided swing at with your empty beer bottle. He retaliated by almost putting your eye down your throat. But Christ that motherfucker could throw a punch.
Your left cheek is much worse. Almost certainly broken or cracked or shattered or whatever happens to check bones when they hit the asphalt with nothing to comfort their fall. The pain is unrelenting. As if someone is constantly rubbing your shattered bones into broken glass while pouring gasoline into the open lacerations.
With hospitals out of the question you can only shoot more dope and eat handfuls of oxy to try and put a dent in the agony and pray you pass out.
As with most blackouts you have no idea what happened or how you ended up in this state. For fucks sake The ___End was your favorite watering hole. You were liked there…or at least tolerated. There are flashs of yelling obscenities and throwing drinks and being forcefully placed onto your stool, but that’s about it.
You do remember scattering lines on the bar and ___furiously telling you to at least take that shit to the alley or the bathroom.
Now you’re no longer welcome at the ___. Just one more place you can’t show your shitty fucked up face,
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