The first fold, thin white paper the shape of a square a little heart outlined in red with a heartbeat line in the middle.
I thought he was “off it” then again people fooled me in the past and clearly still are when identifying there fucked up or normal personalities. I snatch the thin sheet of paper from his hands quickly glimpse, heart image stamped into memory lane, fooling around and unsure what to do since A) he offered brown like no biggie B) why did he even have it? Not sure if it is a problem or not depends on who you talk to, how much they know, the context of the question, ect.,  I have this “problem”, if something is in front of me I don’t say no. In fact, my mouth salivates with the response of my brain ping-ponging with curiosity. Ding, what is it? Ding, where did you get it? Ding ding, what does it do? Ding ding ding, can I have some?

At this point in the evening/morning whatever I already had stuff swimming in the vodka pool we call my stomach. He laid a few lines out on my now and forever “druggie dresser”, I streamlined a couple lines up my Dyson nostril.  Ten minutes in and I am feeling F-I-N-E fine, not like ‘sexy on E’, fine as in smooth and calm, a relaxation that is not one of experience since it is only conceived with straight up Brown. Unfortunately, the deep sense of fine and dandy in this world also lead to a blurry nodding off vision. One heavy eyelid tries to carry the weight of the other lid that purely gave in.  Achieving a decent frame awake while enjoying the high the suggestion of bed lulls from one of our voices circulates my ears, next I am laying in the kindest deepest sleep, “even babies don’t sleep this well.” – Fight Club.

Venom, Soul Survivor, Loyalty. By the time Venom came along, we were making a pretty great white and brown cocktail. The two chemical powders react creating a smooth voice and eager ear dusk till dawn. Perfect poison, two junkies saying, feeling, doing, whatever we want. Strong cocktail equates a strong bond.

IMG_0983By Soul Survivor we were showing too much. Everything became MORE. More feelings, more emotions, more drugs, more of us together. Our abuse was a reflection of how we were toward one another, wanting what we had and trying to hold on and maintain and build off what was crumbling away.  Abuse comes through many aspects.

Loyalty and irony. The chemicals were now combusting, too much and the bond was breaking. It felt as though we were in a trapped room with water flooding in. Soon the pressure had us both in panic, every man for himself state of mind, trying to protect yourself because you cannot trust anyone else, just look at where we are! Flood to fireworks burst into others lives, like it or not, the chaos was consuming our every thought every move for a 48-hour tailspin.

Some damage cannot be undone. Time heals we all know, sometimes that is all you can rely on passing time defusing the difficulties we wish to leave behind. Egos aside and tails between the legs we try to make sense of how two ‘live to love life’ junkies managed to fuck up so much. Strong love, strong drugs, impeccable fucks, intense feels, we kind of had it all but in too short of time. Lesson learned that space is an existence for a reason.


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