Twenty years in the fast lane, speeding was ecstacy at the time. Sweet heady bubbles of coke, buzzing at feeding. No softeners added, lemon or lime. My therapy, my medication.
******, my mind on a long vacation. Knowing this time would one day arrive. My restless legs, my tired insides. My not so central nervous system, twitching fingers, flickering eyes. This to me is no surprise. My therapy, now my reprise.