Booze, Drugs and the Wily Woman

My name is Joe, and that's all you need to know for now, at the moment I'm clutching this grimy sink like a cheap whore. I bend down, over the stained metallic coating, trying to force my stomach to stay still. A wave of dizziness hits me, I curse at myself. I knew I shouldn't have, I knew.
I'm so fucking stupid.
I vomit into the sink, gripping its sides, pretending its a rollercoaster's safety bar as I heave, puke comes out of my nose and tears dripped down my reddened cheeks.
God, I knew it was too much, I knew it, but when Mark gave me the pills and whispered so sweetly into my ear I almost cried,
"Go slow honey babe, I don't want to find you in a ditch somewhere."
Of course I didn't take it slow, I never did, Mark, with those deep grey eyes and those full brown lips, he knew I wasn't going to play it smart, and maybe deep down, that bothered him, knowing I was on the road to a volient, bloody end.
Of course, it wasn't going to stop him from putting the damned pills in my hand, he needed rent money, and I was another sheep for the butcher. In the end he didn't really care about anything else except his money and his good times.
In the end, we're all the same, selfish predators wearing the skins of dead people.
I'm sitting on the tile floor, I'm shaking, I can't stop. I have to calm down, I need water, I need fluid.
I pull my body up, and splash water on my face, the tap water is luke warm, but after all the bile, it tastes good. I lean my head against the sink, calming myself with the beat of the music outside.
The steady drum beat is getting louder, the band must have arrived by now. The sweet, chaotic melody, knives in a live blender cascades off the walls, the throb of erratic guitar wails beat against my skin. I force myself to looked into the mirror above the sink, it has a long crack from the bottom left, to the top right corner. I'm looking at this mirror, its tarnished glass reflecting the soiled bathroom in this shit hole club. The dirty toilet I couldn't bring myself to vomit it still lays in its corner, the small window lets in cold, November air, I looked at my skin.
I start to tingle, I feel light, God damn, the air starts to hum. Like a wing of a butterfly against my cheeks, everything is glowing, I swear to God, I'm laughing, I didn't know I could do that, I didn't know I was doing it.
I look at the mirror again, the colors are sharper now, my eyes are the same, dark auburn brown, my hair is stilll black and short. But my face, thats not mine, I'm looking, and all I see is this woman who has dark skin, with hollow cheeks and round, pink lips.
My mom, she stares at me.
I touched the mirror, gently with my left hand, she's looking at me in wide eyed horror, she opens her mouth, but my voice comes out,
"Row your boat Joe,"
I don't realize my fist lashes out until the mirror is in a hundred pieces on the floor.
Scattered across the black grimy tile, a thousand worlds laying beneath my feet.
I laugh, and open the door as I merge with scent of sweat and booze, I begin my night like most, I look for the Devil, I've made it a point to be escorted to Hell by the sound of hooves and wicked, crackling laughter. Wish me luck.