monsters

over imbibed
under the mister
barely alive we
cover the blisters in flannel
though the words we speak
are banal
not one of them's a lie
not one of them's a lie
you're what happens when
two substances collide
and by all accounts
you really should've died
-andrew bird


Hanging out with Jamie was a good laugh. Really. He was quite innocent in the beginning. Obviously, he made Tony think of the one person he was away from. Yet, he gave him no sad feelings at all. And possibly, Jamie could do the things that Maxxie would not do. There was just so much Maxxie would do to his body. Sure, they got high together and occasionally Maxxie might take a pill or two, but really, nothing serious. Definitely, not hard core. After all, wasn't Maxxie just a looker. Window dressing. Selfish prick. Tony had decided after all this time. Really, Maxxie's concern in life was taking fuck'n care of himself. He definitely wasn't going to take as much speed as Tony knew he could handle.

Oh, and the things he could do with Jamie when they both took a little speed. It felt so excellent. Punks without a care in the world. Smashing into each other. Fierce fucking. Not anything else like it. It should always be that good. That is if he could remember it.

Coming down was just as good. Hard ons were bad. What had been some amazing kicking, ass-fucking was now just something to help you dream about before the itching set in, but maybe thats when he needed Jamie the most. Feeling like ice, touching ice, freezing in pain, feeling his body faultering step by step with each pulse. He found himself grinding into Jamie until he could do it no more. Then waking up to find that he was still there, wondering how they'd score to go on again.