I think you're growing heroin in your back yard.

Genre: Dramatic Monologue

"I think you’re growing heroin in your backyard. Because to me, you can do that. You’re capable, I know. I used to worship you when cigarettes were as bad as cocaine. Now crystal-meth is just appetizer, you kid. Like chapstick. I remember when, you, with far less tattoos, cried to me and made me feel like I actually had advice to give. It only lasted a minute or two, but I felt a lot bigger than you. Now it’s the same as it usually was and I’m sitting on the couch and feeling like I’m twelve-something and you’re 5AM and still going. Even if I surpassed you in my self-loathing, which might be closer to the truth, yours is stronger, you’d think. I’d probably even agree. Because if you say so, it must be, because you make me believe. You convince me, at least when I’m kneeling before you, that life is a bad bad song and it’s ending soon. Fucking Avril Lavine, you say.

Now you’re pacing. You’re moving your hands like the bible is glued to them and you’re flailing in a desperate attempt to free yourself. I’m barely even listening, because just the sight of you does so much for me. Your eyes are very angry, which makes them look silly, but I’d never say that, because it would be mean. I’m still sitting, you’re still flailing, and I think of the time I wished I had AIDS so I’d lose weight. That’s weird. And not very funny.

I better start paying attention, because you might, by the grace of some strange force stronger than crack, ask me what I think and if you did it right now I’d say something about having AIDS. You’d slap me, probably. Actually, probably not, because you’d like it for me to say that. Because it wouldn’t make sense and I never make sense and you depend on that. And I’m dependable.

You ask me if I want to get some food because Blow-Pop or Iggy-Igs might be working at the bagel place and you could get us free food. I’m not hungry but you taught me that free should never be turned down, so we leave.

It feels funny when I walk beside you, because it might mean that I’m your equal, which I know very well you’d disagree with. I would too. I don’t like being equal, less-than or more-than only, please. I like being your less-than. It makes me feel more than in the rest of the world.

Blow-pop or Iggy-Igs are both not working at the bagel place, so I buy. I can’t tell if you like this, or hate this, because you’re not talking, just eating. I’m not hungry, so I watch. Your jaws look really strong - like that bagel is a concrete sponge. You’re like a concrete sponge."