A Prayer to the Porcelain God The touch of cold lino against the bare skin of my chest awoke me from my copious sleep. I examine to open my look but the shine of bright lights inconsolable of the newly polished white porcelain halted my attempts. Where was I? How did I expect here? Confused at my situation, I tried in one case more to open my eye, this time succeeding. My body ached like I had just ran a two kilometer marathon with thirty pound weights strapped to my shoulders. I couldn?t move. My arms, legs, fingers, and toes were subdued in the thick-skulled sleep I was so rudely awakened from.
My eyes drift ed downward to fall upon what had become my best friend that night. The reek of fresh Soft Scrub invaded my nostrils to a point that support it almost comforting. The bowl was tainted by the contents of my tranquillise queasy stomach, although it did not appear like lasagna, and smelled like a combination of burning tires, old people, and some sort of fruit. Outside, I could hear the sounds of those sm...If you want to get a full essay, force back it on our website:
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