I was restless last night. I was tossing and turning because of the heat. It was if the spirits of those that have passed before me wanted me to remember another time. A time when sweat made me stick to the dirty blankets. I would wake up writhing in agony from stomach cramps on the soiled comforter. The burn holes made the polyester comforter scratchy. My hair was stuck to the dirty pillow that a hundred residents of this cheap hotel had used before me. Some of their hairs remained in the fibers. A crime scene investigator would get confused by ten kinds of blood on the wall from junkies and violence and self harm. My life was truly a horror show.





As raise my back against the dirty wall, my first thought upon waking is "fuck my life". The pain does not end there. This is just the realization of my situation, not the beginning of any solution. I feel the throbbing now. I had stuck my legs with dull needles and missed a shot in my thigh. The red, swollen mass is screaming "take me to the doctor" but I resist. There is money to be made. And I am running out of time. The dry heaves will be upon me soon. No rest for the wicked.

I woke up inside clean sheets this morning. In fact, I changed the sheets last night. I slept between red flannel comfort on a warm evening. I slept on top of a queen sized bed. The box spring broke after thirteen years so I replaced it about six months ago. The wheel broke on the frame so I replaced it with some books I had laying around.