Happyhedonic

I warned her... when my brain kicks back on, things get ugly. Days blurred under drugs: mescaline, DMT, sedatives, barbiturates, propofol. I couldn’t track what I took or what kept spinning in my head. Expected weirdness? Sure. Maybe a few hallucinations. This was different. The apartment looked like a savage animal had destroyed it. Blood. Brain matter. Intestines. Ghastly. I checked my body. Arms and legs. Half-sure I’d torn myself open. Fine. No wounds. The smell was metallic and rotten, thick enough to gag. What had I done? My memory was fried...static, glitches, flashes of violence and mayhem with no story behind them. I walked ... barefoot, feeling the floor cling to me, while shards of glass pierced deep into my feet. That now resembled raw shredded meat. No witnesses. No answers. No one else around. Just me stumbling through the mess. I braced for sirens or a knock at the door, but nothing came. Only the fridge humming'. Not a crime scene. Just my