Suffering Pleasure

I lit candles throughout my Studio apartment not so much as to create a romantic or Gothic ambience, but instead to be able to navigate around my four hundred square foot living space with a small amount of light. Evidently, it seems my memory has been on a bender. Once again it's gotten drunk and forgotten to pay the electric bill. The Electric and Power guy pointed out I've used that somewhat creative as well as almost humorous excuse far too often. The novelty has worn off with the consequence being orders to confiscate the Meter and return it to the office. Which meant he couldn't just turn it upside down and push it back in. The company mid-level suits had become sabe to me pulling it out then placing it back into the service restoring my power. So I guess I'll be playing pioneer for a couple of days. However, the neighbors are leaving on vacation for a month in two days, so I'll jump their power, their cable. Then I'll get my T.V. out of hock or maybe just borrow one of my neighbors TV's. This guy will be living like a suburban scumbag.

"This has to stop Santiago. There's no future in what you refer to as a recreational activity." I said out loud.

"Ya I know." I answered back with a four a.m. honesty.

"When do you think that might happen? Do you envision it as a revelation or an epiphany? Maybe an intervention, or a never-fail cure, incarceration."

"It doesn't matter. You've gotta get clean." My voice echoed in the near empty apartment

"Ya it'll happen. I just can't say when." I answered back to myself in a sincere tone. I stabbed the syringe deep into my vein. I didn't even have to pull back on the plunger to register. My dark, thick, rich, red, blood billowed into it as a preview of the explosion about to erupt inside my body.

Boom!

By Judge Burdon