blahblahblah
Bluelighter
"Nothing exists until or unless it is observed. An artist is making something exist by observing it. And his hope for other people is that they will also make it exist by observing it. I call it "creative observation." Creative viewing." - W.B.
Forced into the wicked streets into the hands of lost souls...
Hot-boxin my joint as I round the corner. My only exposed face is hidden behind a swirling cloud of stinky smoke. I just have an uneasy feeling.
Enter the dopeman. 1000 grams of nod
deal that deck, flip the pack. 2 for 1 afterdark.
pockets swollen
Upon the first block ragged individuals eye me with looks of disgust, squatting, hiding in the darken door-frames, yellowed eyes, slunched down in cars. Shouting Scummy...
The first signs of narcotic life, start to sprout
Scandalous,
Fucking you up in the back of the cadillac
Sky high we fly.
Shattered lifes a plenty
Sunken eyes and sniffing noses, hollow faces
executed by the streets, making plans to get high.
Held down by the arm of law (which is broken and in an opiated cashish cast) - new shit duuuude.
Exit the wild west and the ganh-bang-boogie...
Step back into the car, seal off the insanity, and hide behind the tint. An old girlfriend wanted me to go to some bullshit opening of some photo shoot thing (that I really have no desire to see), I agreed demanding I score before hand.
Here just eat these and take a left... (bitch).
How much did you get...? huh? huh?
Here snort your self silly. I make myself busy flipping the dials on the radio, until I settle on an old Marvin Gaye song and slip back into the leather. Feeling the beginning effects of the green and black Librium caps I popped I decide to slam my dope so I can deal with what ever will present itself.
Ohhhh your soo fuct-up... Duh what did you think...?
Ain't no Sunshine when shes gone...
I gravitate directly toward the free-drinks and gulp down two Early Times and sit down to rest my eyelids. Lynn is off probably trying to explain her pictures in a half-nod.
I myself am fantasizing what it would be like to grab that short hair girl I keep catching looking at me (maybee she knows a dope fiend when she see's one and wants to score, maybee she wants the dick, who knows?)
Anyways, where was I...
Oh yea, in the process of stripping her naked with my eyes and clearing the Hor'derve table with a swipe of the hand and laying her out, fucking her hard, the whole time madly stuffing crab cakes in her mouth and laughing hysterically...
Drew... Drewwww... wake up...?!!!
Are you going to sit here or meet my friends, uh... Sit here??? kidding.
Yea who has some speed no coke?"
Fucker...!"
laughter, lets go...
Holding each other to help hold up the crushing nod of the narcotics, babble drifts in my ears and out. It's something missing in this picture, I can't make out a clear description, the reception is tweaking my perceptions (deceptions).
New condos...
New Anti-deppressants...
New boyfriends...
Im clean, just got out of a 21 day program...
Back from vacation...
New shrinks...
Im drunk...
I got smack, pills and am looking for speed, wanna party?
hehehe
FUCK what am I dealing with... (life?)
I excuse my self and make toward the rear of the railroad type (long and narrow) gallery and B-line to the bathroom. I wash my face and than splash cold water on my face and look into the eyes of a confused person. I take a minute to study the graffiti'd bathroom walls looking for names I see plastered all over the city.
"EL Diablo" in think black marker catches my eye as I turn to leave, smudging my vision slightly.
Opening the door, I am greeted by the short hair girl. I know instantly she zoned into the fact I have narcotics in my pockets, a type of opiate telepathy. Used to conjure groups of troops in the old daze of war. "The Harrison Act' and proppelor based air-o-planes all came to a heap of a wreck.
"A nice cup of pink methadone on the rocks Maddam?"
"Oh excuse me..."
"Hi, Im Jane..."
'Drew'
"I couldn't help notice you looked pretty tired out there... (hoping?)".
"Yea this medicine is a doozy."
"what kind?"
"What kind do you want?" smiling slyly.
A quick exchange of numbers (she gets my second cell #, the one used for dope fiend girls plastered behind the disguise of a 'normal 9-5 city-girls') and a sample of the devil.
She'll call soon... (Do I care?)
Not really, I don't really care about shit. I really could careless if I get fucked, sucked, or ducked, tonite, but I'll settle on the sucked. Lynn's one not to disappoint.
OUT the DOOR...
I love the rain and as it hits my face I smile, Crumbly leafs blow upon our feet. Distracting my attention from the nothingness I am thinking about. The oranges, reds, and purples remind me while I love fall.
Just another day in the boring life of an addict, whatta think happened>>?
long drawn out opiate sex?
drinking smoking, snorting, injecting, than sex?
another run, another score?
Same ol' shit?
snappers and china
slap that shit up
NO question... the world keeps spinning and I sit still
radar scope,
blue light flash
run
beat
Forced into the wicked streets into the hands of lost souls...
Hot-boxin my joint as I round the corner. My only exposed face is hidden behind a swirling cloud of stinky smoke. I just have an uneasy feeling.
Enter the dopeman. 1000 grams of nod
deal that deck, flip the pack. 2 for 1 afterdark.
pockets swollen
Upon the first block ragged individuals eye me with looks of disgust, squatting, hiding in the darken door-frames, yellowed eyes, slunched down in cars. Shouting Scummy...
The first signs of narcotic life, start to sprout
Scandalous,
Fucking you up in the back of the cadillac
Sky high we fly.
Shattered lifes a plenty
Sunken eyes and sniffing noses, hollow faces
executed by the streets, making plans to get high.
Held down by the arm of law (which is broken and in an opiated cashish cast) - new shit duuuude.
Exit the wild west and the ganh-bang-boogie...
Step back into the car, seal off the insanity, and hide behind the tint. An old girlfriend wanted me to go to some bullshit opening of some photo shoot thing (that I really have no desire to see), I agreed demanding I score before hand.
Here just eat these and take a left... (bitch).
How much did you get...? huh? huh?
Here snort your self silly. I make myself busy flipping the dials on the radio, until I settle on an old Marvin Gaye song and slip back into the leather. Feeling the beginning effects of the green and black Librium caps I popped I decide to slam my dope so I can deal with what ever will present itself.
Ohhhh your soo fuct-up... Duh what did you think...?
Ain't no Sunshine when shes gone...
I gravitate directly toward the free-drinks and gulp down two Early Times and sit down to rest my eyelids. Lynn is off probably trying to explain her pictures in a half-nod.
I myself am fantasizing what it would be like to grab that short hair girl I keep catching looking at me (maybee she knows a dope fiend when she see's one and wants to score, maybee she wants the dick, who knows?)
Anyways, where was I...
Oh yea, in the process of stripping her naked with my eyes and clearing the Hor'derve table with a swipe of the hand and laying her out, fucking her hard, the whole time madly stuffing crab cakes in her mouth and laughing hysterically...
Drew... Drewwww... wake up...?!!!
Are you going to sit here or meet my friends, uh... Sit here??? kidding.
Yea who has some speed no coke?"
Fucker...!"
laughter, lets go...
Holding each other to help hold up the crushing nod of the narcotics, babble drifts in my ears and out. It's something missing in this picture, I can't make out a clear description, the reception is tweaking my perceptions (deceptions).
New condos...
New Anti-deppressants...
New boyfriends...
Im clean, just got out of a 21 day program...
Back from vacation...
New shrinks...
Im drunk...
I got smack, pills and am looking for speed, wanna party?
hehehe
FUCK what am I dealing with... (life?)
I excuse my self and make toward the rear of the railroad type (long and narrow) gallery and B-line to the bathroom. I wash my face and than splash cold water on my face and look into the eyes of a confused person. I take a minute to study the graffiti'd bathroom walls looking for names I see plastered all over the city.
"EL Diablo" in think black marker catches my eye as I turn to leave, smudging my vision slightly.
Opening the door, I am greeted by the short hair girl. I know instantly she zoned into the fact I have narcotics in my pockets, a type of opiate telepathy. Used to conjure groups of troops in the old daze of war. "The Harrison Act' and proppelor based air-o-planes all came to a heap of a wreck.
"A nice cup of pink methadone on the rocks Maddam?"
"Oh excuse me..."
"Hi, Im Jane..."
'Drew'
"I couldn't help notice you looked pretty tired out there... (hoping?)".
"Yea this medicine is a doozy."
"what kind?"
"What kind do you want?" smiling slyly.
A quick exchange of numbers (she gets my second cell #, the one used for dope fiend girls plastered behind the disguise of a 'normal 9-5 city-girls') and a sample of the devil.
She'll call soon... (Do I care?)
Not really, I don't really care about shit. I really could careless if I get fucked, sucked, or ducked, tonite, but I'll settle on the sucked. Lynn's one not to disappoint.
OUT the DOOR...
I love the rain and as it hits my face I smile, Crumbly leafs blow upon our feet. Distracting my attention from the nothingness I am thinking about. The oranges, reds, and purples remind me while I love fall.
Just another day in the boring life of an addict, whatta think happened>>?
long drawn out opiate sex?
drinking smoking, snorting, injecting, than sex?
another run, another score?
Same ol' shit?
snappers and china
slap that shit up
NO question... the world keeps spinning and I sit still
radar scope,
blue light flash
run
beat
Last edited:
