A. baked something not for general consumption yesterday. At one point he ate a chunk and reported he felt nothing, saying it's probably safe for me to have a little corner piece. Next thing I know I'm awake in an acid trip, my body turning into coils, which turn into maggots, which turn into snakes that I fold into a bouquet and beg my mom to kill by sticking them, head first, into a pot of boiling oil, searing their eyes. Then I swirled and twirled and almost became my bed until I had the will power to rise, surrounded by blind white eyes and the furtive steps of ghosts, to wake Abe and tell him to either call 911 or feed me a Xanax, stroke my back and not stop talking for a second, about beautiful things and love and peace. I fell asleep and today I'm walking on the egg shells of my self.
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