I have to lean against the lamp post. I try and play it off as casual and relaxed, but they must know. My legs have given up the fight to stand, they're trembling and shaking their fists at me, trying to get my attention. There's no time to think of trivial things like health though; my mentality has long since deteriorated, and I knew my body would follow. It's a god damn sheep, following my mind- the drug addled shepherd- into the belly of a whale. It can still call 999, I guess, but no one will pick up.
I should go pick up.
No, there's no time to think about my health. I still can't decide which is more deserving of my attention; the excitement or the nerves- both need it undivided, but I'm still undecided. Maybe I'll forget the lot and give over all my thoughts to this cigarette which is stuck to my hand.
I can't shake it off.
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