I stood in the alley for about forty-five minutes - smell of sewage and feces and urine - me and nine others waiting for the pack-man to show up with all the goodies, the whole time reminding myself how stupid I was standing there waiting - waiting because the man is never on time. The dope isn’t even worth waiting for, unfortunately this only happens to be the best garbage around.
Yet, here I am. Me and nine other shriveled, quivering wrecks loitering in the alley of a known drug spot in a shitty cartel neighborhood waiting to cop dope wishing this little motherfucker would hurry the fuck up. It is cold, the spot is hot, and I am not feeling well even though I did wake up. I don’t know - things are not the same - it becomes harder and harder to cop. The dope all over is garbage. When you do get lucky and find a decent spot some idiot junky comes along and tells them how good their dope is and they begin cutting it more than it already is. I don’t want to stop getting high, I love it too much. I simply hate the process of getting high. Traveling forty-five minutes on a bus, standing around waiting, and trying to get out of there as soon as possible.
Coming undone at the lines of stitching… back for more… the insignia transforms into burgundy… I stomach your latest barrier, this one divides my mind… the beauty of it all, the splendor of unpaid amphetamines… junkie he… this slit in my neckline, how did it happen? My imprint is on the raw terminal paper, it hemorrhages onto the floorboards… My heart is drenched… thought we both needed a companion to scurry to…
Have you ever longed to lead a transient life? Kerouac-esque like - hitching rides, immersing yourself in the scenes and sights of a new town completely and totally only to wake the next day and start anew. A different trip each day and a different kick every night. Here is the problem that lies within: where would one be able to hang ones hat? Where would home be? Would it be possible to, at some point, transition back to everyday life?
Perhaps a Drugstore Cowboy sort of approach would be an alternative. Get a crew of close friends together to do what you need to survive. That may also rectify the home problem. If you were with those who made you feel comfortable.
Perhaps I’m simply dreaming of an escape from the mundane today.
Ahhh yes, I’ve missed the sweet lolling of miss poppies special tea. She had come to visit me today just in time, too. The Trivial becoming much too worrisome. A shitty situation but it seems I must deal with the criticisms and lack of trust to attain my goal in all of this. I don’t actually know what that goal is just yet but, I’ll simply keep telling myself that I’m working vigilantly toward it. Maybe I am, maybe not. Time will tell.
It’s off to another sleepless night for me…