Jekyll and Hyde.





Just do it.. Its been a while.. A few weeks right?? Maybe a few months? A Year? Time is up.. Act now he says. Pick up the phone.. DO IT!!

Jesus fucking Christ… I don’t want to.. I have told you this a million fucking times now over the last 15 years… Why do you always have to get your way… Can’t we just be Normal for a while longer??

Normal?? HA!! I love how you throw that word around. Like when your two friends overdosed and at their service you told everyone how “normal” you were these days and glad you got off that shit before that was you lying in that box, only to go out a few nights later with that stripper you met. You remember her right?? The one we met at you buddies bachelor party? Why did you start talking to her? Was it her beautiful long hair? Great body? Perfect ass? Oh no it was none of that.. It was the marks in the ditches of her arms that got your attention. That was a great week. Laying in bed with a beautiful woman drifting in and out of oblivion…

Fuck! I couldn’t help it! It had been almost a year at that point. A year since we got to lay in the bed of flowers.. We needed it!

AH HAAAAA!!! You said it!!! WE NEEDED IT!!! See? You can be just as bad as me you weak fuck. WE NEED IT! YOU NEED IT!



I don’t need it. I want it. I can go a good long while and not take a pill, snort a rail, or shoot a few bags. But the thought is always there. Like a thread woven through my minds tapestry. I always want it. Some days the thought is as small as a grain of sand on a far away beach. Other days it is a roaring inferno that burns everything it touches. Regardless, it is omnipresent.

Why though? With all the bad things it has manifest in my life. The hundreds of thousands of dollars spent on it, the countless hours of my life spent waiting on dealers and middlemen that I will never get back. The bridges burned, and countless days being sick. The stealing, the lying, and manipulating. Losing touch with my child possibly forever. The hurt I have caused those closest to me yet still I go back. Sure there may be a month, or 3 months, or a year before I pickup again, but one thing is for certain. I will pick up again.





In my wise age of 35 years I have however gained some semblance of control over it. I feed Jekyll when I can. Placate the monster inside me when possible. Keeping the fire going just enough to be warm and comfortable.

Don’t mistake my tone for confidence that I have slain the dragon. I am not immune to full blown addiction. It is a fight when I get down to the last few bags or pills at the end of a binge. That’s when you start making deals with the devil. When it does finally run out, what then?? How sick are we going to get?? How long till I feel better?? How much lope have I taken today?? I wonder if I can get some subs?? Can I Iv subs? I would kill for one more bag. I wonder if my girl is convinced that this is the 8th time I’ve had the flu this year. I wonder where my daughter is right now? Where would I be had I not enjoyed that first Vicodin so much all those years ago??





I have no regrets…. Opiates have taught me volumes about who I am and made me into the man I am today. They are sacred to me in a way. When I am high I feel close to the universe.. All is right. I am truly comfortable in my own skin.





My bed of flowers…..







