Little Mexico

Nothing. She drank to think about nothing. Yet there was so much on her mind. Like the sound of frogs and how they sang through the night. Are they happy it rain or enjoy bothering me?
Or the way the green apple soared through my veins. Does it always feel this good or am I just happy to let go of every feeling?
Feelings…I thought those were gone but they have a way creeping back to my cranium. Every neuron spark and every loss memory was found..excuse me little Mexico has to take a shot…

That was nasty, like tasting medical alcohol. I wonder if that’s what people in rehab drink when they’re suppose to be sober?
Rehab. A medical center for the abusers. Do we really learn to have self control. Or do we just act that way so people can leave us alone?

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