Morphine pumps through my brain, rolls around my arms, slides down to my feet, like the mercury from a broken thermometer spreading across the bathroom floor (one of my first memories as a child). I feel higher than I've ever been in my life on opiates, or at least not a high I've gotten to in many years. What a horrible way to waste my young liver, when I could have been wasting it on Tea. And now I remember why I always loved opiates. Somewhere I had lost it during all he coke, but now it's all returned. The scar on my left arm is numb and tingly, as if it remembers too.
This could be dangerous. At least it's not as dangerous as coke monetarily... I feel so idiotic wasting all that money, when I could've been getting THIS high. R is asleep now; warn out from a manic episode this morning after a night without sleep, and then a day full of morphine induced euphoria. I was annoyed at myself because he was even higher than me, since he has no tolerance for opiates--not his deal. I drank the last cup to myself, and he
I could almost nod out right now, the room is a blur of color in front of me, and it feels as if I've lost my stomach in my throat. I want to live here and never ever leave.
I'm tripping somehow, almost. My face is becoming itchy, as it always used to. The parquet floors seem to be sinking in around the bookcase, as if the entire room was really a sink hole. My head is swimming in pleasure, opiate goodness. Thank god I already fed the bunny and gave him water. Now time to wrap myself up in bed, and let myself indulge in this bliss.
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I am all eyes.