Pills. Plasticine devils, shells wrapping the salvation of me. It hardly seems fair that I’ll need them everyday for the rest of my life. Shimmering black and aquiline teal and bottle of clear tangerine. A veritable rainbow of suffering.
On my tongue, they taste like desolation. Man’s ingenuity, the triumph of science. Blessings of the modern age. Laboratories of sparkling white and metallic chrome. I swallow. How could I not?
I know without them I’d be nothing.