ryan c. taylor// i think i have the flu

     This mattress is unbridled euphoria. At least that's what I think Sealy was going for when designing this flowery , royal blue spring-up-the-spine death trap. Truly destined to be the fallback for pall mall whores and "woe is me" dope fiends from the edges and centers of flat Earth. I'm unfortunately not soaking in this mattresses glaring ambiance, for the moment my out is reflecting my in. I think I have the flu; bones are aching, sweat pours from the hot and the cold, unable to eat, able to violently erupt from both holes every 5 minutes,this is the flu alright. Nevermind the fact I've been 2 days without, that my disease might very well be in full force, and every time I close my eyes I have a wet dream of rigging up and nodding out. I decide I'm unworthy of the pleasurable pain this valley of coils offers and turn over, landing on the hard wood floor, cheek down, ass up.

  Moving is not an option, so I take a moment to mentally record my current surroundings. Drops of dried discharge border my mattress along the floor and wall, the smell of sick in the air from an open trash bag in the kitchen filled with shit stained towels. The hardwood floor covered in sticky substance and empty bottles of orange juice and wino firewater. My dog Hank is fighting the swarm of flies with remnants of a pill bottle hanging out of his mouth. I caught him earlier devouring the rest of my sleeping pills I was hoping to use to dream away this ill, I hope he's ok, doesn't seem to be slowing him down at the moment. Some of the flies are beginning to congregate a top of one of the many areas sticky sick on the floor, I wish them the best in all their endeavors. 

 I have show flyers on my walls from places played and situations I was in, some records, cds, old movies and books on the floor, things I like, interests held and genres covered that I use to identify me and hide behind. Months prior my one bedroom was filled with things to hide behind, all were pawned in order to support the daily attempt to hide from. If I could move to face the sun, I would have attempted to pawn these  too, I don't think this is the flu. Opiates kill pain, no opiates invite pain, and since it's been 2 days with out, this could possibly be pain welcome. Upstairs has been without for 2 days, he's up and moving, so I suspect he's got some brown stashed for moments like these, he's also got a window in the back, cracked open at all times. If I could only walk, rather than crawl, a nightmove would be in order, I'm unfortunately paralyzed for the moment and will have to wait for home delivery. Until the situation upstairs changes, I'll continue to lay, cheek down, ass up, waiting for fruitition