I feel all swirly

I'm ditzy and dizzy, drugless and wordless. The bass is up but the music is quiet, just a static reverberation that won't cease and even if it could, I wouldn't want it to. All I want is another hit of just about anything to keep chasing the sunset and never be left in the dark, alone, in my room. But it's not likely, I'm getting tired and cold and everything aches and I feel shitty- as if everything has been put through a blender and back into me all wrong.

My face is any girl's face, my tits are any girl's tits, and from the waist down baby I've been everyone's any girl. Even now I feel the breath of hundreds, of one in particular, of no one I know. It seeps into my skin which turns the same ugly way - hot, damp, putrid for years to come. I feel the greasy pushing as I open my eyes even though I could keep them closed and play dead, but games are for children and I've got to grow far and wild. Keep running, eyes open.

If you can take me in my sleep, you should have had the decency to pay me like the whore you saw lying there, trying to dream of better days but always falling back into nightmares... bad memories... bad people.

The next push will make me.