11.

[Albion]

A writer I know gave this poem to me, as part of a small collection of work. He gave me permission to share this with you all on bluelight after I requested. I think it's a beautiful piece of writing about a moment that, in one way or another, many people have lived in:



11.

Sitting here, feeling and knowing nothing. And now just a little sad.
I can barely sit up to type.
It takes a long time to roll a cigarette because I fall into
a daze and when I come to, I've forgotten what I was
doing.
I feel a lot sadder now.
My head has a pain slicing through the middle of it. I
smoke my cigarette so slowly that each time I flick the
ash away and then return it to my mouth, smoke goes
into my eye. I rub it and it waters. I have repeated this
process for some minutes that now I've placed my
cigarette down by my typewriter and my face is a little
damp.

I go to the toilet to vomit, but just crouch there and
spit rancid saliva. I vomited yesterday.
But most days I feel the nausea from time to time. I
timidly shake. I've finished my cigarette.

As I move around my flat I support myself by putting
my weight on adjacent furnature. I need to get some
more tomorrow, if I don't, I won't be able to for a few
days, and then what? What will I do? I think I will
have another cigarette.

I roll another cigarette, but it takes some time. I doze
off halfway through and hallucinate. When I awaken,
I'm confused, I re-establish the facts and collect myself.
Nodding.
I feel quite sad now.