art by MIKE

I took the syringe firmly in my hand as I attempted to draw up my life through a cotton. My nose is dripping into the cooker, the smell of vinegar and instant coffee is overpowering. Whatever this is cut with, it ain't dope. My streak of broken luck continues. My eyes are watering with what I can only describe as involuntary tears. It had been a sunrise and a sunset since my last hit. I have no concept of what the rest of the world could describe as time. The Earth revolves around the sun the way my life revolves around this drug. Every hour, every minute exists for the moment I will spend engaged with this syringe and the blue lines that lead me to where I need to be.I take my broken cockring and make it tight around my wrist. I don't have time for shoelaces or a condom for a tie. I got this "bracelet" from the last person I fucked- a lil souvenir. Looking for that space between my fingers where I found that last spot. I marked it with a sharpie for future use. The pain is my existence while stabbing myself in search of the pathway to salvation. with the sweet release of the tie, I feel the hot pink swelling travel over my hand. Not only did I miss, the tar was so hot it feels like it is searing my nerve endings. I lick the blood off my fingers and pray for a feeling that never comes. The histamine reaction runs down my arm like a scene from Dante's Inferno. It is worse than the two lovers that see each other and never touch. It is the junkie that misses her hit on her last $20. I put my head against the brick wall, secretly hoping that this shit will kill me. It never does.