My Heroin Girl

My Heroin Girl

My heroin girl sits in an empty car in a parking lot of hell, waiting.

It's been three days since her last fix. Three days of shit and vomit and pain, fistfuls of sleeping pills each day. Finally the devil answers her call. He climbs in and kisses her full on the mouth, but she knows it doesn't mean anything. It's just the lust and the drugs and all the numb fucks. He brushes her tear stained cheeks. I'll take care of everything, he says. Spoon, rock, and water…He drops the cotton in the mud, draws the dope up through the filter. But it’s not that she can’t do it herself; she just loves the way he does it. How he pulls her in close, traces a finger down her vein before he sticks her with the needle. Her blood rushes in, mixes with the drug. He pushes the plunger down and she shivers. The warmth spreads across her body. The red haired one prepares his own fix. All else forgotten, they surrender to their shared sedation. The pupils of those emerald eyes shrink to pinpoints. Her breathing slows. Slower and slower. Overdose.

My heroin girl stands on a silver beach a thousand miles away. When she closes her eyes she dreams of two white faced boys. Goddamn junkies, I can't get to her vein. The steady roll of the ocean against the land replaces their voices. She sits in the sand and looks across the horizon, a lifetimes passes. The voices grow louder now. She's not going to make it, one says, but Mercury rises. The beach begins to fade and she stares up at the paramedics. She cries. If she closes her eyes, she can almost hear the ocean.

My heroin girl, in heaven dreaming of hell, in hell dreaming of heaven.