WRITINGS

For Christiane: The Use of A Foot



The room was unforgiving. The door locked. I was with my boyfriend, but even so, he was a sore.
"Let's go cold turkey together Christiane, make a better life for ourselves. I think i can do it."
What nonsense. He rolled around just as much as I had.
My fever was high and i would avoid loving again to alleviate my stomachache.
I was relapsing hard, pulling the sheets towards me. Detlev challenged me and tugged the sheets his way. we had our backs to one another, which reminded me of the first night we slept together.
Hard to handle.

"Remember, Christiane." I thought to myself. "there is still some hidden in your comb."
(That's how i hid it from my mom.)
I reached high, grabbed it from my shelf (for my self).
Detlev crawled on top of me, with his legs around my hips. My reach was greater. I shoved him off my body.
"You can't do this!" he said. "we're minutes away!"
I'd been used to shooting, but sniffing will have to do. Detlev couldn't control himself and readied the heroin, grabbing it from my hands.
"You are weak!" I yelled. "This is mine!"
it was a weak yell.
It seemed like some time had past.
I find a piece of paper.
I was minutes away from addiction. 
I tear that peice of paper.
I was at the peak of the struggle.
I roll that peice of paper.

My stomach came knocking. I spewed everywhere.
"Christiane! You ruined it!"

My foot was in the door, but the door broke my foot.