it's friday night 6pm and the only reason i left the house since sunday was to go to a funeral on thursday. i feel like a rusty tackle box that has been left in the back of an old pick up truck full of dead worms, hooks, and knotted line. i think i dosed once too much today but fuck it, it's about dinner time and my face feels like roast on the carving station. i'm gonna take again. the idiot cook with the chef's knife hasn't been reel graceful this week.
it feels like someone is taking the right side of my face off in layers. there was a point today were my vision went blurry. the point of this isn't pain, it's neuropathic inhibitors. Topamax and neurontin. my brain is cooked. waffle house 3am drunk needing coffee and bacon i am in a different time zone. clarity is something you should value. coke addicts, not so funny anymore.
i have to put myself in a drug induced haze to make it through the day without screaming. and once i am there i begin to touch it, it frightens me. it forces me to ask questions about self and true desire. how much pain do you really want to be in? how much will you be in before you take again? will you take more if it gets worse? can you feel it getting worse? you are building up a tolerence to the recommended dosage, just take one extra...
it's hard to type. i have to go really slow. what's worse is i can't tell if it is the drugs or the fact the i have a disease that causes the demylenation of nerves. who knows? what ever it is this is an effort that is borderline psychosis. i smell chlorine, there is a distinct taste of iron in my mouth, i think both of these are effects from the drugs. however, when my mom hugged me at the funeral and her head hit my face and A. asked me if "i would be okay?" and i said "maybe," and she said am i "sure because my lips are the color purple." i figure that was caused by hell. yes pain exists, even, and especially, in churchs.
so there they went, bottoms up, 400mg of Neurontin and another 25mg of topamax, a little OJ so we have some vitamin c catalyst. i have my up in smoke tour shirt on. i am gonna put the chornic in and peace the fuck out. if i had weed i would smoke it, if i had gin i would drink it, but ladies n gentlemen there is none to be had so i will sit here destroying my body with legal destruction in hopes i don't scream the night away.
2 comments:
There is this deep rooted part of me that wishes I had the ability to fix problems like yours. Raging asshole jock, I can fix that, hangover, I can fix that, relationship problems, I can give you bad advice on that as the very least. But this. I'm so at a loss for what to do, that I keep hearing myself with the, "I'm praying for you refrain." And I find myself telling stories about you to people, thinking, J. should be here telling this story, beer in hand, with this as a part of his past, all of us having a good chuckle about self medication and tipping back to many pints. I want to help but I don't know how. You are one of my most loved brothers, but I can't fix the one thing that hurts you. I can get you weed if you need that. Gin is for girls but that can be worked out if you need that. Just know this, you are loved, by a lot of people, you are prayed for (whatever that is worth), and if you need anything, I'm here. Comrades, crew mates, brothers.
word, i think healing is gonna be found, i think it is gonna be with facing this shit head on so all the prayer counts for something and i know you pray. and i count it as prayer every time you tell my story. i got to the doctor on monday and tuesday and wednesday so hopefully we will get some answers. i think my medication will be on stage guitar in hand. i think i am getting to to go through my mickey rourke moment a little earlier than most people. but it will give me something good to say.
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