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 picture to open my look but the shine of bright lights disastrous of the newly polished white porcelain halted my attempts. Where was I? How did I occupy here? Confused at my situation, I tried one time more to open my eye, this time succeeding. My body ached like I had just ran a two kilometer marathon with xxx pound weights strapped to my shoulders. I couldn?t move. My arms, legs, fingers, and toes were subdued in the occult sleep I was so rudely awakened from.
My eyes drifted downward to fall upon what had become my best friend that night. The taste of fresh Soft Scrub invaded my nostrils to a point that run into it almost comforting. The bowl was tainted by the contents of my even so 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, demand it on our website:
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