AEROSMITH HEROIN – Shane Jesse Christmass
June 5, 2021
Sallow juice smeared on pubic hair … tiny muscles … my mouth … a pale-green beam … febrile touch … the hopeless monotony of touch. The balmy night air … voices blow against hot faces. White foam inside Ted’s deep breath. The phone rings. Driving away from the woods. Trash containers full of organic matter. Ted hiding out in the washroom at the main bus terminal. Frost on my work clothes. Ted asleep inside the local McDonalds. I’m eating in the cafeteria area at the train station. Ice cubes in a brandy glass. The dark recesses of Los Angeles. My mouth hangs on the entire world. Bus driver asleep on the rear seat. Suburban train immersed in a frozen lake. Lung orifice … intolerable spasms … antennae that exhume shrill whistles … panic-stricken voices. A homeless biker who wears make up. The whole city smothered in toxic waste. Shiny things … bright mist … distant particles … the linoleum floor. A fire hydrant in the warm night … electrical shock. Ted’s lips press against mine … our throat clap … blood … a flat voice … flashbacks … Houston moves past me. Security cameras and radar screens. My hair stands on end … a manic edge to it. Teds voice fades on the house patio. We move in different directions. I go to the grocery store … he goes to the memorial park. My poor eyesight. Road signs dismantled to make sharp incisors. Blunt front teeth … spectral scratches on my body. Eyebrows … singed from broken cigarette. I am asleep inside the bus terminal. Ted hands me his phone number on a piece of paper … the messy expense of his hot breath … sticky grease on his t-shirt. I meet a wonderful person in the weight room … we go outside and eat hot dogs in amongst a huge crowd. My skin … Ted’s eyes … his fingers … circulatory collapse … heart attack … sleep deprivation … massive health problems. A dead leg left on the bus seat. Bullet holes throughout Los Angeles. Beer bottles inside a small refrigerator. My car fills with human shapes … the homeless … police officers … further construction workers. Steady whispers in the city streets … ghastly overtones and bleak grief. Molten rock fills the entire room. A moon-lit night … a warm summer night throughout Houston. Ted wears a button-up shirt. His room smells. Green tea in small cups. Cool water from the water taps. An incessant rattle inside the subway tunnel. Bodies with sharp metallic blades protruding from them. My right ventricle explodes. The bed sheets all stained. The shower spray soaks me in soap suds. Gym socks stuffed into Ted’s mouth. Photographs full of human shapes. Ted reads from a decade-old magazine … further displays of anti-social behaviour. It’s a short walk to the local McDonalds. Long white tendrils encircle my Big Mac. Electromagnetic fields … brain wave levels … physiological stress … black polyester on a dirty floor. Ted is a well-built man … supple limbs … firm flesh … muscular arms he wears a sheepskin coat. We lounge inside a large room. Glass shards inside the gymnasium shower room. A deep desire to slash my own flesh. Saline … green salts … phosphor outflow … we fuck in our free time … some long … drawn-out striptease … un-shameless … dirty pictures taken during a business conference in Chicago … Los Angeles. An uneasy night sky throughout Brentwood. Dark hills and a dreamless slumber … ghoulish shapes inside the shadowy gorges. My left ear is wet from stomach juice. I have a wide smile as Ted drives me home. I’m talking complete bullshit in the passenger seat. My numb mind in a greasy … partial stasis. White lights over San Juan factories. Burn marks on my chest. A messy expanse of dead skin inside a sports bag. Sweat and smoke … hot breath … sticky grease … burnt smelling … the car fills with hot steam. Open door … closed windows … Ted in a dark place. Rain beneath the car tyres. Fences surround trees. Suitcases … Ted tells me he has had a disappointing evening. My pulse slows … the entire city crumbles … my steps fade … the heat flesh … the human skin … outermost layer … iridescent water … hypnotic inductions … certain industrial areas of Houston … sand dunes … the highways … the storm drains … Texas burns. A desolate resort … I take a deep breath … the telephone rings … I take my coffee downstairs. Monochrome on the passenger seat. McDonalds spread throughout the back seat. A police officer at the front door. The incessant rattle of my own flesh. Medical texts throughout Tanglewood … all over the room floor. The sun crests over Houston. Hard tongues on skin at the bus terminal. Phone numbers above the washbasin. Thick smoke from the cubicle. A pungent stench from the convenience store. A petrochemical smell covers all of Houston … except my empty apartment. Ted’s listless hands. It is early morning. The plate glass crumbles … garbage full of patent medicines. Sweat doesn’t fade from the upholstery. I am outside the apartment entrance. Sun over Galveston. The sea hears the lowland. Old buildings with black walls. The air temperature drops … hot iridescent water upon my body … the flesh … the skin … Ted beneath an electric light bulb … Ted as a powerful hypnotic medium … an endless stream of hot … whole-body shakes. My bare ass on the linoleum floor … a long knife in my side. The night air … the cool night … pale grey-pink afternoon … warm moisture on Ted’s skin. Mop buckets inside the medical centre. White lights … mirrors … beneath a grey roof. Ted decomposes … decay fills the entire house … voices with an overcast growl. Massive pile-up on the Santa Monica Freeway … bodies … human beings shot … my slim feet slip inside some soft slippers … the primordial gloom of Los Angeles. The whole room is quiet. The evening air … paper cups at the skate park. Conversations recorded on cassette tapes … compact discs … encased in cigarette smoke. Ted in a tight t-shirt. Fresh cigarettes that smell like magnolia. Sore throats throughout Galveston. A large fries and orange juice … McDonalds on the side of the roadway. Ted wears my old clothes. His skin is greyish … thin … brown dirt beneath his fingernails. An intense displeasure … a simultaneous arousal … thrusts at regular intervals … his pursed-up lips … body on factory settings … the nocturnal eruptions … psychoactive drugs … Ted’s soft curves … the brutal harshness of his bluish-green eyes. His massive palms against my huge body. Cigarette smoke as we drink motor oil. Cigarettes and sore throats … glassy floors … Ted in a semiconscious state … I’m wearing heavy clothing. This cheap dinner tastes nasty. Ted lets out an occasional deep chuckle. Chicken bones on ordinary dinnerware. Ted’s whole body … a smoky blaze throughout Los Angeles. I take a long walk past the auto-repair shops … surface dirt on stainless steel plates. Teeth extracted using experimental anaesthetic.