Dreaming of You.

She was always a dreamer

Correction, she was almost always dreamer

There were moments in everybody’s life where nights would pass in the blink of an eye

And dreams are not delivered to our bedsides by Mr. Sandman

But there was a time in her life where inception became more than a movie

And that dying in a dream actually does mean you die in real life

You see it started one night

It only took two hours

Three shots of tequila

Four drinks bought from five different men

Before she noticed that the six was actually a nine and her whole world was moving faster than expected

In the wee small hours of the morning, when the sun dreams and the silent lull of energy can be heard in the air

She committed herself to a path with no return

You see they always said weed was a gateway drug but in fact it was the master key to a closet of brittle bones

He chopped up the powder with a credit card, 70’s Miami style

She watched as his nostrils flared,

His head moved like a crop duster over a field

And just like that the line of cocaine was sitting between his septum

“Cmon’ one hit won’t hurt”

It’s ironic how his white lie caused her to do white lines just to find out that black-hearted truths can sometime disguise themselves as experience

You see something was triggered that day

A tsunami came and destroyed the beach head,

More babies were born not breathing than normal,

And her body began to produce more chemicals than ever

Maybe that’s why they call it dope because of the dopamine that was delivered directly to her blood stream

She was officially “off the shits”

And ever since then her system was only stable if there was a soft white substance filling her nostrils

You see cocaine is a hell of a drug, that causes us to see heaven so how could she say no when purgatory isn’t a place to be

Days past, dollars spent, cigarettes smoked to the menthol filter tip

and in one uneventful moment

A calm Thursday evening

She dropped dead

So coked up that a fizz could be felt if you came close to her

Her friends found her face first in her room

Vomit lurching out of her throat like dry playdoh

There was no Vincent Vega to strike her heart with adrenaline

An overdose is like a disease that infects you when you are healthiest

It’s a quiet death that often goes unnoticed by the soul

And all that remains is what existed before we borrowed the atoms of the universe

so by the time it’s too late the body has already been abandonded

Her heart and organs operating on autopilot, muscles contracting uncontrollably as tremors quake through her tendons

Her nerves resembling sparks of lightning which caused so much rapid eye movement that she dreamed during the entire event

Watching God and Scarface play for King of The World

~J. Varina

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