Black h0le inf0m@tion paradox ; take 2
All the information is still there//how could it ever be lost?
I’m starting to feel better; life is creeping up around the edges….
and damn, it feels good to be alive and breathing.
2 girls relapsed in my house; feelings ran high all day (no pun intended).
I’m smoking a menthol in the early morning shades of a blue sunrise, beach town predawn,
drinking coffee with cream,
and I am overcome with it.
With how much I lovelovelove this place.
Maybe I am riding on that pink cloud but I feel like everything is synchronized with the heartbeat of the universe, like I’m here at this exact moment because this,
This is my timespace,
wind on my face
hands on your hips;
My life has so much substance now (said the junkie).
30 days ain’t shit to a lot of people, but after ten plus years of using, 30 days feels so fresh, that slap in the face awake, that why-do-i-do-the-things-i-do clarity that this little benzo junkie melted-brain fuckedupheadspace princess needs.
Here’s to another 30 days, here’s to the information that warps but never gets lost in my black hole of a brain. I can do this. Right? Right.