The Pill Diaries - Week 47 Shez Hough

WEEK FORTY-SEVEN

In Recovery by shezhough

30-4-2022: Day 324

The charcoal briquettes were glowing red hot, the flames being consumed into burning rocks of hell, as I turned the raw meat on the BBQ grill. In a universal dark hole of a time vortex, the meat was charring black as the darkest night – triggering flashbacks to the thirteen-year prison sentence I spent walking over the hot coals for what felt like an eternity. Elsewhere, I was keeping an ear out for the sound-system DJ vibrations at the girl in black’s birthday rave-up.

Inside, the blacked-out, anti-social house party, the brilliant neon lights were illuminated with the promise of the next gen of ravers. The girls assembled were all waving glow sticks, throwing shapes, and vibing in the darkness. While outside, the supermarket BBQ coals of hell promised an eternal grilling for the uninitiated corrupted souls.

1-5-2022: Day 325

My fifty odd hours of streaming music playlist is causing the mental burglar alarm bells to ring sharply, on this May Day from the depths of hell. I was feeling the spine tingle with demonic vibrations as the Devil strolls in through the front door uninvited, come to steal my soul and ruin my bank holiday. He’s on a mission impossible to dose me up to the screwed eyeballs with Big Pharma Frankenstein brain drugs.

Six-six-six hours later, in the ring with the undisputed champion of the underworld maze, I was being psycho-psyche-pummelled under the sweat-soaked sheets of the matrimonial bed. I was trapped in a revolving door of hell – corrupt biblical Sodom and Gomorrah shit, a savage suicidal Hobsons choice on the Bridge Over Troubled Water, and slowly chargrilled on the flaming coals burning deep in the Earth’s core. And before long I was searching for a fistful of downers in the white wicker basket in the death of night.