Three Hundred… ever afters

I have not always sucked dick for drugs, this dump hasn’t always been my house. What the fuck is a home? A hovel in broken glass? White fucking walls glitter horses, shut up bitch. Go to sleep. I spent what lucky ones call a childhood watching my mother zone out glass eyes pale skin slack from time, needle in her thigh crying black tears from heroin withdrawl. Her stomach hurts, puking in my china tea cup I had found while pretending to be a princess in the dirt. She called me Momma, I was her momma. I took care of momma while she was sick. She was my baby. While my momma baby fixed, I dreamed of adventure, a life like moon royalty somewhere silver and hot. I had never tried on princess shoes never put a dime in a payphone to call God though I called the dealer once on our neighbors phone. The neighbor was nice she had a cat named Rockstomp who died by eating a pumpkin seed. He was nice too. I was allowed to bury him, I dug a hole fit for a king.. dandilions for eyes. He meowed I swore he did. Looking back while looking up in dark cold eyes balls deep in my mouth, I should have known I’d end up like my momma baby.. Though my poison was snow hers was fire smoldering tears.

I met Steve the gimp, the officer with a bad leg at the bar. I had just finished sucking some Nazi dry in the ladies restroom. Line cooks are weird like that. They like it kinky. In places their mothers have been.