Soap MacTavish
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2010
- Messages
- 293
The finite nature of the flesh.
Picture me at the Jackpot Motel...dead of summer...no AC...smells like piss and vomit...nothing legal EVER happens here...a black hooker that I picked up sits on the bed smoking crack and talking too much...I just got done smashing and degrading her for about the last hour...now she's trying to con me...constantly trying to con me...I'm already tweaked like a livewire and then the bitch opens the door to let 2 thugs in to rob me...I grabbed my pants and jumped into the bathroom about 6 inches ahead of deadly grabbing hands...now I'm fearing for my very life and thinking very fast because there is no window big enough for me to escape from.... I take the square lid off the toilet tank and break it in half on the side of the sink to use as a weapon...I'm pouring sweat... one of them says "open up muffucka... whatchu doin?" Then the hooker tries to con me out that everything is cool. She's calling me "Baby". My possible death, or near-death is close at hand...but I would rather die than scream for help. And on top of that I'm really not here mentally; I have checked out of this reality and the pain that lies ahead...not afraid of death, afraid of dying...detaching...no longer tethered to the physical realm...I am hoping to wake up or something...pouring sweat...it's a hundred fuckin degrees in here...I turn off the lights and stand up on the sink so I might have the drop on 'em if they break down the door; they might not see me before I see them. I hold the rectangular tank lid up above my head ready to smash it down on the face of any clown that decides to open the door. I'm ready to attack..my brain is reeling and on fire... my muscles are tense like stone. I am ready to pounce. I can barely get out the words, but I say "I'm'a take one of you wit me man, just move on man I'm not worth it..." I can see their shadows under the door. In this moment I am alive like never before. I can feel God and primal instincts. Survival....Life.... The universe tells me to not let go... I am on the razors edge clinging. I am nothing but a hardcore urge to survive. I wait for 20 minutes but I can still see their shadows moving under the door after they pretended to leave the room. Eventually, after about an hour they leave but I ain't bout ta come out of my stronghold, that's what they're waiting for...for me to expose my flank...I will not let down my guard... So I stayed in that bathroom all night. Several hours passed as I stood there until my muscles started giving way and I was starting to faint in there. I slipped and fell down and stepped right on a shard of shattered porcelain which lodged itself up in my foot so now I'm bleeding. Got blood on my wallet and insurance card. I waited for the sun to come up and flood the area with light. Then I finally came out to a surreal world of 3 dimensions. I'm not sure how much of this scene and how much was imagined. One of the problems in the post-traumatic re-entry of reality phase where it's time to pick up the pieces and and reflect is deciphering which was real and which was PV in the first place...it's like being a full-on paranoid schizophrenic
These types of scenes repeat themselves often
Back to why I would keep putting myself through all this shit. I mean, yeah, I know, like after all the hell-on-earth this substance has given me, it still provides me with those rare moments of heaven/ecstasy and that's what this game's all about to me; that little tiny piece of heaven is more valuable than ANYthing and ANYone. Don't try to sell me guilt-free joy, it's too much work. I've done my time and paid my dues. Now it's my time to shine.
I'm not lying to myself here; I know I'm a fuckin idiot, riddled with perception problems. So this is what I do until that day my heart pops, or I stroke out, or get arrested or shot dead behind a crack house.
Yes, even after all that self destruction I still want PV...and I still get it... and if PV is unavailable just substitute with a-PVP. They both guarantee the same ultra-distortion of reality. The horrors of PV get worse and worse, so the pleasure becomes more and more valuable, hence, an object for my obsessions. What you've read about my experiences earlier are a picnic in comparison to the nuclear fallout of consequences and pure brutality of the last year or so. I sold my soul for the pleasures of the flesh and the devil is rich and giving idol.
That's a logical conclusion... and that would work fine for a logical person. Enter Me; I have a seriously fucked background that makes/allows me to thrive on chaos/violence...survivng the next brain-blasting bell-ringing hit of crack+50mg PV smoked together in a tin foil pipe stuffed with chore boy. Surviving the next 2 minutes..like a firefight in Iraq.I dont get why mdpv is so well known to be fucking terrible, not that great of a high just makes you fiend out more then crack
.. after such miserable experiences people still want it??
Picture me at the Jackpot Motel...dead of summer...no AC...smells like piss and vomit...nothing legal EVER happens here...a black hooker that I picked up sits on the bed smoking crack and talking too much...I just got done smashing and degrading her for about the last hour...now she's trying to con me...constantly trying to con me...I'm already tweaked like a livewire and then the bitch opens the door to let 2 thugs in to rob me...I grabbed my pants and jumped into the bathroom about 6 inches ahead of deadly grabbing hands...now I'm fearing for my very life and thinking very fast because there is no window big enough for me to escape from.... I take the square lid off the toilet tank and break it in half on the side of the sink to use as a weapon...I'm pouring sweat... one of them says "open up muffucka... whatchu doin?" Then the hooker tries to con me out that everything is cool. She's calling me "Baby". My possible death, or near-death is close at hand...but I would rather die than scream for help. And on top of that I'm really not here mentally; I have checked out of this reality and the pain that lies ahead...not afraid of death, afraid of dying...detaching...no longer tethered to the physical realm...I am hoping to wake up or something...pouring sweat...it's a hundred fuckin degrees in here...I turn off the lights and stand up on the sink so I might have the drop on 'em if they break down the door; they might not see me before I see them. I hold the rectangular tank lid up above my head ready to smash it down on the face of any clown that decides to open the door. I'm ready to attack..my brain is reeling and on fire... my muscles are tense like stone. I am ready to pounce. I can barely get out the words, but I say "I'm'a take one of you wit me man, just move on man I'm not worth it..." I can see their shadows under the door. In this moment I am alive like never before. I can feel God and primal instincts. Survival....Life.... The universe tells me to not let go... I am on the razors edge clinging. I am nothing but a hardcore urge to survive. I wait for 20 minutes but I can still see their shadows moving under the door after they pretended to leave the room. Eventually, after about an hour they leave but I ain't bout ta come out of my stronghold, that's what they're waiting for...for me to expose my flank...I will not let down my guard... So I stayed in that bathroom all night. Several hours passed as I stood there until my muscles started giving way and I was starting to faint in there. I slipped and fell down and stepped right on a shard of shattered porcelain which lodged itself up in my foot so now I'm bleeding. Got blood on my wallet and insurance card. I waited for the sun to come up and flood the area with light. Then I finally came out to a surreal world of 3 dimensions. I'm not sure how much of this scene and how much was imagined. One of the problems in the post-traumatic re-entry of reality phase where it's time to pick up the pieces and and reflect is deciphering which was real and which was PV in the first place...it's like being a full-on paranoid schizophrenic
These types of scenes repeat themselves often
Back to why I would keep putting myself through all this shit. I mean, yeah, I know, like after all the hell-on-earth this substance has given me, it still provides me with those rare moments of heaven/ecstasy and that's what this game's all about to me; that little tiny piece of heaven is more valuable than ANYthing and ANYone. Don't try to sell me guilt-free joy, it's too much work. I've done my time and paid my dues. Now it's my time to shine.
I'm not lying to myself here; I know I'm a fuckin idiot, riddled with perception problems. So this is what I do until that day my heart pops, or I stroke out, or get arrested or shot dead behind a crack house.
Yes, even after all that self destruction I still want PV...and I still get it... and if PV is unavailable just substitute with a-PVP. They both guarantee the same ultra-distortion of reality. The horrors of PV get worse and worse, so the pleasure becomes more and more valuable, hence, an object for my obsessions. What you've read about my experiences earlier are a picnic in comparison to the nuclear fallout of consequences and pure brutality of the last year or so. I sold my soul for the pleasures of the flesh and the devil is rich and giving idol.