spiral by casia levine

One night I was trying to exist like a slug - inhaling inhalants, staying up well past 2 am before a 745 am commute, dancing in my room, when I felt my neck hair stand up. Someone was watching me.

I scanned the line between my desk and my doorway, my floor mattress and my room divider, the hanging clothes almost torsos, the cracks in the blinds, and imagined pushing my bookshelf over to stop... someone.

So much body interruption. I have to get really high again to live in music. It happens every forty five minutes - the catholic casino security room which I rent my stomach from demands a payment, my judge appears.

In this life where I make all of my own choices, why is the fear of god in my lower spine ?

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