The binger

_ somewhere in Washington Heights_
a cab pulls up to the curb_breaks screech/scream_a car comes to a halt. a short indian man, the cabbie, gets out, runs around the car, opens the door. Inside the car a slumped figure of a man. he has just vomited on the plastic divider. the inside stinks. the figure stirs. the cabbie reaches inside and grabs the man by the hair_blond tousled hair_pulls him out. there is a lot of steaming yak_all over, the back seat is laminated in puke, the plastic divider is curtained with reddish/greenish_chunks of undigested food pinned the flowing down curtain to the plastic. the indian guy is screaming something_pissed off_despair lifts his hands to his head_what a fucking mess!
the man, the passenger is laying in the street_absolutly blotted out_blackeness soft like a velvet cloth swathed his mind. the cabbie gets back in his stink-Sgonna-ride car. Revs up_gone!
the man lays still in the street. he is barefoot. 'blue levi's and black shirt. the manS body feels like a burlap sack. there are roches inside, thounds of them, snakes, rats. his body aches with nightmares you couldnT possibly imagine. the man , if it was only possible, wants to take off his skin costume like feels his his flesh drenched in booze_nightmares! he feels it all inside stir and writhe and slither....
he is still stilled_palsied by booze.
then, slowly, very slowly he rolls over on his stomach_tries to get on his four_collapses_tries again_CANt!
_is laying on his back, breathing heavily, then he heaves_rolls over_puke!vomit! tries to get up_crawls.
he is barefoot.
cuts across the puke, his pants are stained dirtied with chunks of food_torn up inside_wASted life_big fucking chunks.
he reaches the sidewalk. there are people. they look at him as if he were a beast. they are scared. they canT comprehend the sight of a man trashed so much that he seems to shed humanity and now something else is still breathing_clinging to life.
still crawling the man looks to the right_to the left. the street feels like miles long hallway with buldings for doors without numbers he cant remember he came out from. he wants to go home.Badly! but nobody Sgonna help him.
he Sbeen on the bender_a week?two?three? he cant remember. but he wants to get back to his pad. there is a cat he Sbeen missing_is it alive? he wants to...
he thinks he still needs more beer vodka whiskey wine cocke pot angel dust pills, a fucking flock of pills from sythnetic morphine to heroine, anything to dull the pain that begins gnawing at his brain_innards. the images he sees_unbearable! a dog with two heads, one sticking out from an asshoile...birds with steel shinning beaks like bullets ....come... !
he collapses. Again. then_he knows, he knows... he sees white fat cats with red eyes walking by_he sees scrawny figures with black cold marble eyes standing over him_an abyss opens up_
he is sucked in inside his paranois_he is a stunned rotten fetous inside a belly of some undescriable heidous un-people creature...he feels like... he wants to be re-born.
he pisses himself. wet flowing blanket of urine...he Sdone...
more creatures come, bent down and look in his eyes.
"where the fuck are you all come from".
he wants to get back...pad..cat...cozy leather couch are all waiting somewhere up on the sixth floor...washington heights...
the binge he Sbeen on he canT remember how long has finally come to an end_in the street_pissed_filthed in puke_with frayed with fears brain the binger knows he has reached...
falls asleep...warm darkness populated with dreams to be forgotten sets in... he will never again...
never again or the lady suicide Sgonna come with a rooftop...freefalll... of a tall building and_crush_pulp_gone! DEAD... but he knows there is more to death that just...skipping on this fucking chocking reality... of a sudden he remembers his "friends"...everything in their "stupid shallow lives"...timed!...lunches!...phone calls to tell her/him....hi! itS me i am....who the fuck gives a fuck what you doing...fucking slave!!... what?...slave...no character no fucking nothing but a body with a label. Hi, my name is...a medicore pussysnuff ...
he only wants to get back to his pad...and sleep...and not to think about those shitfaced...spittle-licking....brownose "meam men:"... forever...doomed fucking slaves with insurances and lives he wouldnT live for anything...slaves.!!!!..scared!!!of life and themselves...how disgusted he was with all...them... and those fuckwrinkled balls gals: wives...cunning like stupid bitches he wouldnT touch, not to mention fuck, with a stolen dick...wives...pathetic... men looking for mothers...doomed fucking pussywhiped brainlesss fuckers reading wallstreet papers ...MAN!
thatS why he has been drinking...better to give in than to "exysist" with those medicore, forever in-between pussywhipped hussies...insurances...lives planned for decades in advances... weed gardens...he retched imagining those "fathers"...
thatS why he Sbeen drinking...drugs...illusions stripping off their neurotic garments...
the binger...sleep...his cat he has missed...a room in a city...any city! as long as there is noise of a trafffic...people shouting...days melted in runneled streets...SLEEP!
and fuck all....of you...