2012年3月10日 IIF: Drugs again

I had breakfast today, you'd be surprised what heroin does to a person.

In fact, just saying "heroin" plus any personal pronoun, gives just about anyone the creeps, outside of those on it. My twelve step program was to take less than 12 steps to acquire more. I reached over for the phone.

The best part of waking up

An hour later I was downtown on 53rd and 3rd just standing on the street, trying to turn a trick. You wouldn't believe what people out here do for just a hit. Just a hit, we only live for this stuff. We only die for it. I don't live for anything else. I just want it in my veins, what can you do? Nothing. Can't do anything else. I'm just under this tree wondering what I can lose. Nothing hits harder and better than this. Oh yeah... What can you do? Take it away, it's all your fault. I'm just sitting here with nothing to lose.  

Gimme Shelter came on the radio. The guy on the edge of the bed had just injected the fucking outer-limits into his arm and I could tell he was already in outer-fucking-space. He fell off the bed. Full face-plant onto the floor. I was already on my way there too when someone put a cigarette in my mouth.

My suit must have run out of oxygen or something, because I was having a hard time breathing. I think it was the smoke. It rose up from the floor. A zombie holding a wine glass smiled at me. It drank in front of me, but the wine just fell through its mandible. I watched through the smoke as large ants the size of large scorpions with the heads of dogs run forward to lick the wine off the vomit stained floor.

I got up and swam to the kitchen, climbing into the fridge. I shut the door just enough to turn off the light. I grabbed a bottle of whipped cream-- did a whip-it until I passed ou---