First time- I was 18 and it was the summer of 1983. My outlaw bf 12 yrs older shot me up. It was one hellacious rush. Best way to describe is to quote part of a poem I wrote about that experience called Stange Highways. Back in 83, meth was only really available to bikers and trukers, coke was the only thing available to me then. I tell you this. I didn't shoot up again until age 34 in the fall of 1999 because I was afraid of shooting myself. I met a willing teacher eventually, though, a seasoned junkie who tried to dissuade me cause he knew I'd never want to do it any other way. He was right. Still, the memory of having only had ONE HIT 16 years ago, made me hunger to shoot, and the following is what it was like:
"...Eccentric paths I have chosen
Intense and alert, solid frozen
I fasten my belt-here I go
Faster and bumpy, twisting and turning
One hell of a ride
Feeling scared and satisfied
Eagerly anticipating
Mad woman welcoming
Compulsive pursuit, however insane
Wanting more speed
Enough I'll never gain
Out in orbit-faster I go-3000 mph yet still
Life's a trip-think I'll pop another pill
Another massive adrenaline gush
I fall down
What a great fucking rush
Euphoric beyond words
Sudden orgasmic flush
Chasing, persusing danger I thrive
Propelled to maximum overdrive
Fever rising, shivering, perspiring
Consumed by obsession and desiring
Destructive quest for danger's thrill
Pushing, accelerating to overkill
10,000 mph yet still
More is never enough
Can't get my fill
Doomed and cursed by unquenchable thirst
Voracious appetite, insatiable lust
Impossible to satisfy, but try I must...."
The 2nd time was even more intensely orgasmic, electric, and euphoric than I remember the first time, which I thought couldn't be possible, but it was. Always chasing, coming down later described in the same poem,
So many roads and different paths
I chose to walk down a dangerous land
Endless expansions, abundance of sand
In barren silence, stones, isolation I stand
Surrounded by miles of desolate land
In this vast emptiness vacant of hope
Infineate despair and I elope..."
and on and on the dance goes, where you'll stop, nobody knows
Key words? More is never enough
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