- Joined
- Apr 4, 2006
- Messages
- 19,526
My heart pounds and starts to go haywire. Just another shot of blow i think and I'm on my way. My dealer asks me have i got any percs so i happily trade him a few lousey perks for about 10 30mg mazzies. Another speedball and I'm ready to go home. I need to crash so i got no time to stay. Out the door and into your typical tenement hallway. I can hear Irish and rap music, the sound of laughing, the sound of crying and the sound of fighting. Dying dreams in a dead building.
A choppy sunrise coming up over the foggy dew rising up across the bay as if this sunrise was just for me to see. Once my hopes rose that high but now they just fall like sand through my fingers. The sun coming up over the shore just reminds me of past failures. How many times have you walked this road before? Half drunk, cracked out, completely headfucked and at the same time oddly lonely. I have been here before. Broken pavement and broken lives. I hit the crack pipe and toss down my last can of beer. My mind is as cracked as the road i am walking on and the crack rush is speeding me along tossing me home. I pass the wino's, crackheads and junkies, prostitutes and all the assorted early morning crowd. Just your average skeets still hanging round in the morning trying to grab a last buck. I pay them no mind as i have nothing to buy with and nothing to sell. As foul as this place is this time of the morn i have never felt more at home. The multi coloured row houses are something you only really see here, One relic left over from before we became part of Canada i guess. Despite the odd memory flashbacks my legs keep carrying me as i am getting near home. How many mornings have i spent like this? In this old city or some slum out west. Far too many too count that's for sure. As i chew a few temazepam i realize that this city was the only one i didn't feel like some unwanted guest in as in every other city i felt like i was automatically put in the imported psycho bin.
I finally make it home and crash. My muscles are tense as fuck as they usually are after a crack/coke binge. I spark up a joint as the mazzies are kicking in and my body and brain finally start to relax. How many early dawns i spent like this? Sitting on a couch after a hard night out and full of self loathing. Half my life easy for sure and i am not getting any younger. Here i am in my early 30's and whingin about how fucked up the coke makes me feel. Not that you give that a thought while your smoking it or shooting it up. How much cash did i spend? I can't be fucked looking up my account online so i am guessing a good $160 for the 8 ball and maybe tack on another $100 for those rocks i bought. Fuck me i think i could have spent that on something useful.
I lay down on my bed thinking about well everything. I can smell the salty air drifting in through the window and think about what my life has come to. When did this shit become a chore instead of a party. Wtf am i trying to prove anyway? I'm past 30 i am not 18 anymore so wtf? Maybe it is time to chuck it in i think as i chew up another temazepam cap.
Finally i drift off to a medicated sleep and think no more bad thoughts or any thoughts at all. A little peace from a chaotic existence.
A choppy sunrise coming up over the foggy dew rising up across the bay as if this sunrise was just for me to see. Once my hopes rose that high but now they just fall like sand through my fingers. The sun coming up over the shore just reminds me of past failures. How many times have you walked this road before? Half drunk, cracked out, completely headfucked and at the same time oddly lonely. I have been here before. Broken pavement and broken lives. I hit the crack pipe and toss down my last can of beer. My mind is as cracked as the road i am walking on and the crack rush is speeding me along tossing me home. I pass the wino's, crackheads and junkies, prostitutes and all the assorted early morning crowd. Just your average skeets still hanging round in the morning trying to grab a last buck. I pay them no mind as i have nothing to buy with and nothing to sell. As foul as this place is this time of the morn i have never felt more at home. The multi coloured row houses are something you only really see here, One relic left over from before we became part of Canada i guess. Despite the odd memory flashbacks my legs keep carrying me as i am getting near home. How many mornings have i spent like this? In this old city or some slum out west. Far too many too count that's for sure. As i chew a few temazepam i realize that this city was the only one i didn't feel like some unwanted guest in as in every other city i felt like i was automatically put in the imported psycho bin.
I finally make it home and crash. My muscles are tense as fuck as they usually are after a crack/coke binge. I spark up a joint as the mazzies are kicking in and my body and brain finally start to relax. How many early dawns i spent like this? Sitting on a couch after a hard night out and full of self loathing. Half my life easy for sure and i am not getting any younger. Here i am in my early 30's and whingin about how fucked up the coke makes me feel. Not that you give that a thought while your smoking it or shooting it up. How much cash did i spend? I can't be fucked looking up my account online so i am guessing a good $160 for the 8 ball and maybe tack on another $100 for those rocks i bought. Fuck me i think i could have spent that on something useful.
I lay down on my bed thinking about well everything. I can smell the salty air drifting in through the window and think about what my life has come to. When did this shit become a chore instead of a party. Wtf am i trying to prove anyway? I'm past 30 i am not 18 anymore so wtf? Maybe it is time to chuck it in i think as i chew up another temazepam cap.
Finally i drift off to a medicated sleep and think no more bad thoughts or any thoughts at all. A little peace from a chaotic existence.
