Compromise

THERE is nothing else.
Flashbacks. The Basketball Diaries. I am the boy lying motionless in a bathtub, my neck too weak to support the head that falls back in an everlasting dream…or nightmare, or a combination thereof.
There is no reality, just transitions between visions of pure beauty and sheer horror. I am young and old. The flesh on my arms is unscathed and my veins are in place. I have never damaged the shell. It’s all coming from the inside and its external interactions…with bodies, eyes, sounds and voices. It created all the drugs I never needed and now they’re taking over.
I lay defeated.
I want to just stay there in calm. I don’t want to fight anymore.
I know it’s stronger than me.