So I saw this picture by @cloverflynn the other day and know this song (was planning to write something at some point lol)...the picture just wouldn’t leave me alone. So thank you for the inspiration. <3
This is the A side Trevor piece to another B side with Michael that’s coming soon.
Habits
You're gone and I gotta stay
High all the time
To keep you off my mind
Spend my days locked in a haze
Trying to forget you babe
I fall back down
Gotta stay high all my life
To forget I'm missing you
Take a hit, smoke a drag, pop this, eat that, snort a line, wake and bake...he’s done it all. Frequented bars, gone to sex dungeons, been to the most backwater fucked up places in an effort to forget the face that plagues his mind, to forget the body that still warms his dreams.
To never remember the incident that haunts his nightmares, bodies laying on the cold ground, red bleeding into white, but one, in particular, is forever etched into his memories, left now in the frigid tundra of the north.
He couldn’t bear to make the journey anymore, couldn’t cry at the tombstone, whisper declarations of lost love, rage in the miserable hate that only those left behind experience. Instead, he cries into sheets, whispers hopelessly into beers, and rages at those who dare to get close.
He makes a habit of avoiding anything or anyone with that name besides the last testament to their bond permanently inked onto his upper arm. It had almost gone over his heart, but he’d thought better of it when he’d realized that he’d have to see it every day, and the pain would be too much for a long time.
It never gets any easier though, mourning someone who was and by all means is still loved. Time moves on so slowly at first, almost as if everything is as frozen as North Yankton, but then it becomes a blur as he has to hit the pipe more often than he used to do...anything to take the edge off, to focus on something else, to forget the one piece of him missing.
An old movie comes on, and he talks to the ghost in the room before he curses at himself for being so fucking stupid as to believe that it will speak back. He hears one of their old songs on the radio, and he goes to say that name without thinking. What the fuck is wrong with him?
Ice has become such a figurehead in his life because of this habitual need by his heart to reminisce about something his brain wants so badly to ignore, and he finds it almost hilarious that he finds peace in something bearing the same name of a thing he had once grown to despise.
A cloudy haze is what fills his days now instead of snow, hidden touches, and infectious laughter. The heat that surrounds him is so insufferable, it’s actually comforting. It envelops him and cuddles him close just as those arms once did. It’s a soothing blanket to the chilling past that fills his soul.
The first connection he makes on his own is to a former chef turned wannabe chemist who knows how to cook the stuff, and they make plans together to form an entrepreneurship.
After all, he’s going to need a steady supply of this shit coursing through his bloodstream if he’s ever going to kick his former habit.
