Human Trash

I am numb.
The only feeling I am able to feel is the warmth draining from my body.
Its almost as if the hardwood floor is pulling it out of me.
I am shivering, curled on my side
On my bathroom floor.
I would get up, but I know I don't have the strength.
I am weak; malnourished.
The only thing my body has taken in for days, is the drug that will be my end.
My body tells me that I'm hungry
But I know that if I eat, I will surely regret it.
The only thing I can do, is wait.
Wait for someone to come sweep me away to the trash
Or for God to save me from this hell.
And so I wait.

Hours go by, and the only interaction I have with anything, is the cat.
She cuddles up with me, and I savor her warmth.
I can barely run my fingers through her fur.
I can barely do anything.
I haven't slept or eaten in days, and the only thing Ive had to drink is sink water.
That was yesterday.
Today I cant make it to the sink.
I know that if I lie here alone much longer, I will surely die.
I feel like I cant do this anymore; like I need my only friend: my needle.
As much as I imagine I need it at this point, my addiction is the root of all this.
Real people smoke cigarettes, or drink coffee.
I injected heroin.

I ran out of junk just five days before now
It feels like such a long time.
I haven't eaten since before the last time I shot up.
And as I think of it, I feel sick.
I try to get up, or at least crawl to the toilet
But I don't make it as far before I fall.
On my hands and knees on the floor,
my body expels the only contents of my stomach; the yellow slime that is bile.

Theres nothing left inside my stomach to give up
And nothing left of my junk.
I feel as if I am surely going to die.
I just give up, and my vision goes black.

Days later I wake in a hospital.
I have a breathing tube
and an IV.
But yet, I don't feel that sinking feeling.
So I'm sure I am alive.

Someone cares.