Saturday, May 30, 2020

Blunt Corpse ~ Monday, 29 May 2017

After running eleven miles to Fleet Feet Old Town on Friday to pickup my racing bib for the Soldier Field 10 Mile run on Saturday, I went to work on Sunday for eight hours, had a beef taco for lunch and a whiskey after work. I took three hits from a blunt with friends and five minutes later passed out and hit my head on the edge of the curb. Someone took care of me enough to make sure I got home safely by calling a Lyft for me. I don't remember the last time I lost all power over body and became a helpless plaything of unconsciousness but I'm grateful for friends concerned whether to call an ambulance, to get me water and some bread, or just watch after me when I hit a low point on this journey through the world. They got me home and I am well. Now I'm laying low at home, resting and refueling for another day. 
#MemorialDayWeekend 
~~~
I felt the hand of death when I woke from my fall I regained consciousness but the power to control my mind was disabled set to a neutral gear the drug I smoked was strong as I hadn't touched weed in years it knocked me out cold as a one-two punch I felt like Lazarus risen from death no less certain I was asleep or dreaming that someone was trying to wake me not sure how I arrived flat out down on the ground not bleeding but shaken up not sure how I fell some seven feet away from where I stood I felt exhaustion held me down after running a race the day before I hear the double whiskey shot on an empty stomach wasn't wise but a bout of boxing with a blunt after eight hours at work surely caught me off guard what could I do but hang my head in shame sitting there on milk crates weak knee in pain after the race no wonder I fell down hit my head awoken from unpleasant dreamscapes with a mild concussion groggy corpse like a welt over my ear today my mind was gone absent I stood unsure if death did not try to empty my body of my mind I returned like a shade from Hades to sit still and wait to drink water eat bread and watch the card fall from the dealer's hand face-up on the table suicide king my breath weak collapsed in my chest my pockets full of stones into the sea I wade

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