An Informed Junkie

On the sides of my pain medication bottles are delicate, yellow, lovely labels... do not crush being the one always sings a little louder. The reasoning behind this, one can only guess, but I am assuming it has something to do with the narcotics being released too quickly into the body. Take with food, swallow whole, say a prayer and hold on to your fucking hat. I chew my medication, deliberately... quickly releasing it's soothing effects on my mind. The chills, as they wash away... I am warm once more. The choir has to take a bow, for this is a solo act... no accompaniment is needed and your previous additions have been so delightful. Silence, now. Breathe in the still, stale air... thick with smoke and melancholy. One pill is the maximum dosage for 8hrs, say the friendly reptiles at the pharmaceutical grocery... start with one and slip away, with two or three it all goes away. The waves will rise once more and they shall return to center stage... to dazzle the audience with their opinions and commentary. Can't I enjoy the silence just a little more... I am so tired of the singing. In this empty opera house, the only sounds you can enjoy are my screams and the singing of my rapists.