It’s Never Tomorrow

My body is shaking, it feels like my skeleton is dancing underneath my skin. I’m not moving. I’m lying down. my hands at my side. my hands are now on my chest. My heart is beating like a machine gun. my bones grind. my hands are back at my side. I can’t fall asleep. I have to fall asleep. Maybe I won’t wake up, I hope I don’t wake up. My skeleton is hitting it hard, it wants out of this body. My hands are back on my chest. My heart is spraying and praying. I’m already on tomorrow. My dog rattles in the crate. My hands are back at my side. I want to turn over but I don’t want to start all over. Just lay here. Don’t move, ignore your heart, ignore your slam dancing bones. The sun is creeping through the dust covered blinds. The dog stirs. Birds sing. I’m making my body a million promises that this is the last time. It knows I’m lying, I know I’m lying. I’m back in tomorrow. I’m thinking about the first beer. My throat taste like bleach or what I imagine bleach would taste like. It’s dripping down the back of my throat. My whole body sweats. My bones are slowing, waltzing. I hear the morning calling. My hands are on my chest and my heart hates my hands. There is a mutual resentment going on in this bed. I’m licking my lips. I’m up. Looking for the baggies. There has to be residue. Something to tide me over. The bags are splayed across the table as if they’d been dealt by a blind man. There’s an ashtray mountain, a metropolis of beer bottles, a Cd cover, some rolled up bills blood stained, a pipe and a bag of weed. Nothing! I did this at 3 am. I’m in reverse again. There is nothing in here. I grab a bag and shove my tongue into it. Nothing! I cry but try to ignore the fact that I’m crying. It’s 6:35 am. I look away from the clock. I move to the fridge. I drink a beer. I drink another. I’m right sized. I’ve put my skeleton in it’s place. I have you for one more day, tomorrow is all yours, tomorrow you can run out on me. i don’t know who I’m talking to. My skull isn’t listening. I need to reload my heart. I pack a bowl. It burns the back of my throat. I snort. I can taste last nights guilt already. The sun is rioting outside. I pack another bowl and grab number three. I’m gonna need more beer. I smoke, I drink and admits it’s just another day. It’s never tomorrow.