October 2006

I had a good evening for a change and feel good. Saw ‘Rehab’ this weekend, fucking pisssed because I didn’t realize ‘Beck’ was playing a few blocks away, argh!!! I could have made both shows ‘Rehab’ didnt come on untill about 1:30am, Beck was over by than. Although I was quite happy with Lubriphonic [http://www.lubriphonic.com] but ‘Rehab’ did not disapoint. Blur, yellow window panes with white curtains in the show, nice. Cruized the city on my bike with a friend, unfortunetly I bit it pretty hard and fucked my shoulder up pretty bad, it hurts. Doctor visit is needed, narcotics wont cut thru my bupe but I need some fucking muscle relaxers, I stretched my shoulder muscles sooo… bad i can barely move it. Got bit by the crocidile last night, well needed, well needed. So is a hottub and some accupunture, hmmm. The accupunture just poped into my head its been awhile since I have had any work done with that. Word to the wise accupunture and opiate detox should go hand in hand for awhile a few upscale rehabs were including it in their treatment program, but I cant praise ‘detox’ accupunture on about the 4-5th day of detox. If your suffering man it works better than 80mg of valium and a few bars of xanax by far. Anyways…

You cant always get what you want but if you try sometimes you get what you need ahhh yeahh…!!! Im tuning 30 soon argh my bday is closing in I needed to hit my head when I wiped on my bike instead of my sholder, amnesia would be perfect. I would be standing in line with Mr. Jimmy, my favorite flavor Cherry Red.

This weekend Ratdog and Bob Weir than Sat. Younder Moountain String band or maybee I have it backwards regardless it will be a good weekend more good music just what my soul needs. I saw her today at the reception, she was practiced at the act of deception I could tell by her blood stained hands.

Pinwheel eyes and a candystrip uniform, uh what on your knees please. 🙂

The One With Out Seeds…
Over and out on a gray chicago morning and I feel happy for a change how short lived that will be is probably up to me, we will just have to see. I hear a cowbell, a little Honky Tonk Woman. Lick the salt of the earth and chase the factory girl down to the riverside, whachoo got in your pocket…? Waiting for a girl we get drunk on friday nights, waiting for a girl she got stains down her dress. Waiting for a factory girl, shes like a rainbow ya know’. Do ya, prismatic in her smile. Colors everywhere…

HOW COME NOBODY COMMENT TO ME LATELY, say high damn it, Kel? Distracted? Ssaturine, wheres ogre… better not be slammin dope with some girl dressed in blue. Colors everywhere, shes like a rainbow.

Seedless [Is time on my side…?]

Turn it up +++11

The cicus is in town… walking in a mind numbing trance, the urge to dance is upon me.

I could write about my present life, which pretty boring so I wont, I could write about some of my past life, which is filled with dope stories and horror, ahh the horror. Instead I am going to write about what strikes me at this moment in time and space. It will probably be ready to print to the ‘funnypages’ as Freedom Club likes to say, and with that I will do what I like to do, write…

I keep thinking about Tupac Shakur
but I am listening to Desolation Row
I think of the slabs of crack tupac slung as a youth
I try to forget about the slabs I smoked as a youth

Phantom of my memories, likes to play hide and seek and Tag your it. Skinny girls, waifs, tan. I love um. I’ll lick um up, taste like Tang and a twinge of pink pussy. cosmiclogo.gif

My mind seems to be functioning like the Particle Accelerator [Fermilab] on a crash course…? I wish I could just sink back into myself and *poof* be gone. The more and more I think about it is exactly what might be best for me. Moonbeams and Star Trails, fractured symponic notes of fortune. Promises made in the dark, dissolve in the light of day. The other one and its bass line beat. My mind is a votex, kinda like a washed out coral tidepool.

In that tidepool you’d see a big ol’ this is not worth it for my mindstate. Raindrop encassed questionmarks pinging and with a glancing rebound bubbling up from the froth, a good day, a fine day. It all melts into a dream for me, a conceptual nitemare. My cares wither away like the seasons first freeze on living green organisms.

Irregular thoughts concerning a life that once was more than a life, it was a pure and simple unobjectable tango with the Devil. I sense the evil one is at work in otherways wearing my soul thin. Threadbare Tye-Dye hangs comfortably and with purpose. Eternity? Space Cadet on a mission to the stars? I thought I found a co-pilot but I ride solo enveloped into the Milkyway, interdimensional science. The sounds of science? Jack the Ripper with his reaper balancing on his shoulders, the light blinds me as the blade is struck be a god-willed sunbeam. Is it ever going to end? Ha, the saga hasn’t even started.

Let us all bow our heads in a prayer, God, Father almighty please bless those less fortunate than I [you], shead your loving light into all the beings upon, above, below, and right in front of you, Earth. I pray for the war torn societies and the children, women, and men for the be replentished with your simple stuctured art of loving. I pray my projected empathy finds one soul tonight and gives them strength. Bless all those that suffer from the splintering effect of addiction, shead your grace onto thee. I pray for this world as a whole, that the negative energy that has encompassed this world be lifted and replaced with a positive, rebulding energy. I pray for those souls lost in purgatory that there soul may find its way back home. Bring in nothing but positive light into my body, shield me from evil as it tries to claw at me. I pray for change and a better understanding for those that just dont understand. Yet not I pray for you and Mother Mary in her shrouded robes that you continue to do as you know best. Mother Mary pray for those who need your guidence, pray for me. In the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen.

Architect of space and time
A space wrangler amiss in the nebula
Log-a-rhythm and ancient barcodes, scan me
I walk in the path of postive strutures, others try to bring me down.
Sadly I frown

The secret account of the revelation that Jesus spoke in conversation with Judas Iscariot during a week three days before he celebrated Passover. …Jesus said to him, “Step away from the others and I shall tell you the mysteries of the kingdom. It is possible for you to reach it, but you will grieve a great deal .”
—The Gospel of Judas

Knock, Knocking on the golden door,
Voices telling me…

I remember hearing something…

Researchers Find More Bones of Huge Camel

From Times Wire Reports
October 14, 2006

Hunters stalked giant camels as tall as some modern-day elephants in the Syrian desert tens of thousands of years ago, archeologists reported this week.

The enormous beasts existed about 100,000 years ago. Their bones, first discovered last year, have also been found this year in the sands about 150 miles north of the capital, Damascus.

The animal, branded the “Syrian Camel” by its Swiss and Syrian discoverers, stood 3 to 4 yards high — about twice the size of latter-day camels and the height at the shoulder of many African elephants.

I wonder who rode these camels, surely something, right?

The Book of Knowledge: The Keys of Enoch, ribbon flavored strands of DNA.
Cant forget the DEA and the NSA [enter the puzzle palace]
confuze, delibrate, naive… in their ways.
The Flower of Life
Lotus eater, the bee’s made honey in the Lions den

I am probably getting a bit to far out [man, wow] there for some so I’ll dip my electronic ink into a different flavor.

Aching body limbs [reminds me, med-i-cation time]
fleeting glimpes of graffiti, as the traincars rattle by reverberating a ripple of intrigue. Who is Shr00m?
Constricted pupils, glazed daze
Uncle John’s Band carress my eardrums
I am to afraid to get up and run
Habituated in a kemikal psychopath relationship
Tied-up in some opiated dominatrix bind, loving the ritual
Hurt your family, Spit on your friends, Just need that next fix
What are you willing to risk?
Your life? Ha, you gave up on wanting to live ages ago.
Yes, Ill trade my soul for a spoon piled [HIGH] with #4
The Holy Trinity
Needle, Water [spit], Dope
Faux Dreadheads with a 2 month chipping habit
I laugh at you, Oh you hurt, well welcome to the Kingdom of Pain.
A blurry vision of heroin has the reigns
Thorny crown of needle points affixed to your collapsed veins
Crimson red, white and Indigo,
Opiated pill heads, get a real fix. Oxymorphone blahblahblah
Diacetylmorphine is where the honeypot lies and dies
Lies… Lies… Lies…
Is your life even real?
Chinacat Sunflower, narcotic is my life.
Midnight sun, dirty palms outstreched powder rain of dope bags.
2-bit hustlers, prostitutes, & thugs get pushed wayside.
The farside of your mind, how far will you go?
The metallic sound of CRIME gets awoken to the billy-club upon the bars.
No not your bars, ya drunk
Prison Bars. You a snitch?
You’ll get whats coming to you, when the crikets sound silent.

[Be right back gotta take a leak]

Hustlers of the world there is one Mark you can’t beat: the Mark Inside.
Inside? I have no insides they were robbed by the street
Its ever present beat, would speedball up my heartbeat and shift gears for a shot of diazepam mixed with heroin.
Propylene glycol and alcohol oh the burn.

Burned fingertips and lips
Too many crack pipe rips
Shouting… Scummy
Rhymes for the youth, Jedi Mind Tricks
Built to Last or Built to Spill?

The liquid doesnt soak into the well cared for dining room table at the Chicago Hilton, the layers of wax suspend the liquid in pools.
Fucking dumbass, you just knocked over a FUCKING JAR!!!
Staring into the liquid, the woodgrain swirls, enough lsd to dose…?
Slurp… Out comes a tooter, lining up 4 inch liquid lines. Snort, Pinch, head back, unpinch, inhale strongly, relax.
You just did not take to much lsd…

Prisms, and you think you know.
FUCK, do we have enough smack I am not getting sick on this trip?

Trip? Man you are a trip unto itself
Tryptamines combined with Phenethylamines
Tinkle me nose, burn baby burn.

I need to get a shot in me, Jimmy says in a shakey, scared voice.
Here [hands him a ready shot], good luck finding a vein 🙂

Or should I say hitting one, the breathing, snaking, vein structure reminds me of erosion and flash flood landscapes. Each large vein carving into the canvas.

FUCK!!! Will somebody please hit me, constricted pinpoint pupils overwhelmed dialate into the deep black hole. Saucer shaped pupils, All black baby. Blood is dripping off Jimmy from multiple injection tries, gimme your arm. Slides into home, like a warm knife thru butter, register, and slam the plunger home. Feeling the Effects of the High?

Rush over me
The rush was my life
That rush wrecked a good twenty years of my life…
That rush erased my emotions…
That rush destroyed my dreams…
That rush crushed and crumpled friendships…
That rush erased my emotions…
That rush sliced wounds in the family structure…
That rush made me forget how to live…
That rush almost killed me…
The rush was my life
Rush over me

Contraband of the illlicit form, narcotica. Boot-legged pharmies. Gluethimide, wack a Nigerian gram into four. Knee buckling high, Good shit, eh mon…? Hey?!?! you awake dude, quite fucking around, FUCK.

Fuck your turning blue, mouth to mouth and a heavy hit to the back of the chest. Fucking thank the lord [s name in vain]. Good shit eh mon…?

Ehh, uh what are we talking about?
You and why you drool on yourself.
I rest my casket your honor.

Eye blink my I’s and look at you. I hope you make it.

Piece of mind [Peace],


Some of my fans [chuckle, chuckle]…


Over and Out…


In a strange mood, something feels just off.  Must be the artic winds blowing south.  Winds whistling thru the trees, shaking the leaves.  The cold crisp air is ready to snap the stems of multi-colored leaves.  We will see if the stong ones will survive.

You had to be so strong
And you do nothing wrong
Nothing wrong at all
We’re gonna to break it down
We have to shake it down
Shake it all around

Were shaking the tree.  New day, A blue day…


The full moon is just cresting over the horizon, lighting up the sky in a darkish to light purple. Very few starts are visible, the north star is shining bright on the handle of the big dipper. Twinkling in the evening cold mist, you flip to a different song on your MP3 player, some random tunes parades into your eardrums…

Your rain falls like crazy fingers
Peals of fragile thunder keeping time

Recall the days that still are to come
Some sing blue

Hang your heart on laughing willow
Stray down to the water
Deep Sea of Love

Beneath the sweet calm face of the sea
Swift undertow

Life may be sweeter for this, I don’t know
See how it feels in the end
May Lady Lullaby sing plainly for you
Soft, strong, sweet and true

Cloud hands reaching from a rainbow
Tapping at the window touch your hair

So swift and bright
Strange figures of light
Float in air

You feel that is everything is ok, than a voice tells you to look to the east. A family of deer Silouetted by the bright moon light, heads turned toward you, gnawing on some earth bound plant. A huge Elm tree is outlined in black, making the perfect image. It’s than when you realize everything is not ok, you are not unhappy. You are all alone, you have nobody to share this perfect moment with. Quilt strikes a deep bass chord in your chest, Why? Why? Why? Was I such a moron? I could be spending this moment with someone I care about, tomorrow we could have been laying snow-angel style in the rainbow colored leaves that coat the Autumn grass. We could have been laughing about nonsense, my body and mind ripe with emotion I rarely feel. Our fingers touch and a static charge is released. We roll ontop of each other, brushing her messy hair out of the way of her piercing eyes. Content is the moment that could have and should have been. Embrassing in a wet sloppy ‘teenage like’ kiss, blood rushes to my cock. ‘Fuck it no-one is around, take you pants off’, moments later her perfect smooth ass has my handsfull as she pumps up and down and side to side. Her beautiful face framed by her messed up blonde hair is staring at me with a description I just cant put into words I smile as I brush a lone leaf from her hair. We laugh as she leans down and carrasses my face with her ‘pencil eraser’ nipples. Arching my back I go deeper into her, closing my eyes in exctasy, the perfect feeling. Nothing else matters, I am content and gushing with emotions and feelings I dont know how to express.

I open my eyes, the deer are gone, I am all alone and I have no one but myself to blame. I should have tried harder, I shouldn’t have made such rude comments. Shoulda, coulda, woulda, but now its just me myself and I, minus a couple crystals I have in my pocket. I ask God why? Why, did I ruin such a great thing something I have yet to feel that intense about? I know deep down its my own personality defects from years of drug abuse, years of meaningless flings, fucks, and one-two-night stands. I have so much trouble expressing my true feelings I get tied up in a ball of self-doubt. Next thing you know I am pissed at myself for not acting how I want to act, next thing you know I am flying off the hook with some completely off the wall accusitory comments. Why? I dont know. I regret my actions and words more than I can even begin to express on a keyboard. I guess people have there limits on what kind of abuse they will take, I know I had my limits on the kind of behavior I could take multiple times. I guess I will never know… Sad, isn’t it my first time I could say I felt ‘LOVE’ and I am 30 yrs. old and what do I do but self destruct the relationship because I am too afraid of my feelings or rather how to express them. Sure my judgement was clouded with sleepless nights, insomnia, medication, and fear of the unknow. What was and what could have been, I can finally say I know what it feels to have a broken heart. Is this some sort of lesson or learning process for me? In my gut I think so but in my heart I wish it wasnt so.

I miss you if you read this, I’ll lighten it up a ‘lil…  Please be my friend 🙂


Life is usual, dull and unfufilling. I am ‘trying’ to look for a job with no results, ‘trying’ equals maybee looking in the want-ad’s once every 2 weeks. I need a job, so I can get on a normal routine, I could careless about the money shit I would work for $5 an hour as long as I dont have to see or deal with the public. I need to get into that cycle again of having responsibility. I have no responsibility other than to make my doctors, and probation appointments each month. I am sick of sleeping the day away or being up for days on end, I am sick of having nothing to look forward to when my eyes open. I dont even drink anymore so I cant even look forward to going out to the bar to get drunk and pick up some chick for a wham, bam, thank you mam. I am just sick I guess.

I know I am not depressed, I am just in a slum [as usual]. All I have to do is hold down a frikin job for 3 months and show my Father I am responsible and I will have his backing for doing whatever I want. Be that a new car and finishing school around here, or moving to the city and finishing school there, or moving to the city and starting a new degree @ art school. I just cant figure out what the fuck I am waiting for? I hate the life I lead with a passion, I am sober for the most part, yeah I have a pharmacutical addiction[s] but thats a fuck load better than copping a fix and poking myself with needles everyday. I told myself I was going to move after I got off home monitoring, than it was before winter, now I am saying after winter. Who wants to move to the city mid-winter, not me. I am such a spoiled fucking slacker, it makes me want to throw up. I could do whatever I want to do if I just put some fucking effort into moving forward. I cant understand whats holding me back, is it fate working? Or is it just pure unweilding procrastination? I guess I am afraid of change. I just dont know…?

In other news a strange twist regarding my old acquaintances drug trial one of them had there bond reduced from 1 million down to a hundred thousand. Even after they made a big hoopla about ‘making these two kids pay’. I smell something fishy. Here are some of the news articles [local]. I talked about it previously in one of my entries but personally I think there quilty from the conversations I had with them prior to the arrests. Its a sad affair.


And the latest regarding the reduction of Bond…

Yet another old acquaintance I used to cop with is off to the joint for 2 years for a porbation violation [OD, and possesion]. His Mothers article concerning him was once again reposted on www.drugfree.org

Here is the story she wrote if anyone is interested. He was a few years younger than me and a very intense, unpredictable person. I stopped coppin with him years and years ago, not the type of personality I agreed with. Anyways here’s the story…


As for me well you read above I am meloncoly especially since the break-up with my girlfriend. I am feeling good and have set some goals for myself and I WILL accomplish them. For the time being my goals are private :). I dont want to sound to fucking pathetic.

zip… turn the page.
Cracked sidewalks, bedtime stories,
snail trails, and candy whales.
Dream catchers and sleepless nights.
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow, past the dealers selling two-for-one,
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,

And watch where the chalk-white arrows go, around the corner from the chalk-outlined bodies
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends

Nightmare Avenue where the sidewalks cracked, and the shemales filp tricks,
crack and heroin, speedballs mixed
Your sickness will be fixed,
On Nightmare Avenue.

Walk fast, hood up, and looking at the ground while staring over your shoulder.
Stuff the pipe with a boulder.
Rush, rush, life is so much fun.
To bad once you walk down Nightmare avenue your life is most likely done.

We are children of the future
Wonder where this world is going to,
We are children of the future
Wonder what in this world we are going to do,

When they get high
They can see for miles and miles
When I get high
I can see myself for miles

You know I’ve got something that you can use
It takes a little bit of lovin’
A little bit of huggin’
A little bit of lovin’
A little bit of huggin

And if you don’t think that you can find
And if you don’t think that it’s peace of mind

Return of the Space Cowboy, hooked-up and tied-up, Emergency on Planet Earth, Scam
Morning Glories and Angle Trumpets, Ragga influenced Pink Floyd remixes, young girls standing in the concert line.  Blowing warm air and rubbing there hands together to stay warm, a glance upwards.  Pupils the size of saucers.  Interstellar mind oddessy, pigtails and a warm smile.  Groove to the beat, underground narcotic trade, earthly hallucinogenic growth, fairy cirles, mushroom spores.  Tagged city sidewalks, grime, and time.  Wasted on a Nokia, thinking your grip on reality is straight when your necktie is loose and your coke hook-up just sold you a overpriced gram.  You dont care though as you collapse onto the bathroom toliet heart pounding out of your chest.  Speed demon, you think you got it together, but your all alone. Fake people, imaginary churches, mushroom clouds.  Disaster zone, sitting by the phone, perched for a ring as your cravings have you crawling up the ceiling.  Altered conscious thru chemically processed naturalistic elements.  Molecules adjusted and johnny is out back dusted.  Hanging on for his life, tying of with his IV tube.  Rubix the Cube, mathmatic simplicities, and Creedence Clearwater.  Relaxation with a beer, you think you got it made in the shade.  When in reality your so far in the red.  A stoners cashed out eyes would give your bank statement a run for its money.  Roll the weighted dice, kiss um if you wish.  The tide is against you and the shore is far away.  Encoded with love and decoded with 00and11’s.  Old oak tree’s and perfect Autumn sunsets and a kiss on the lips, so simple.  Complicated it with powders, pills, or liquids and that tree will die.  I miss care-free youth, join the ‘real world’, what exactly is that?  Tax shelters, and re-financing.  A cute starter home,  Look honey we could have a rope swing for little Jimmy.  Dream a little dream for me.  These arms of mine, They are lonely, lonely and feeling blue, These arms of mine, They are yearning, yearning from wanting you.  Heavy metal and teenage sluts mean nothing to me.  Down tempo outtakes of the John Spencer Blues Explosion, Flavor of Bellbottoms.  I am in rambling mode, thankful I am not fuct up, yo!  Joo believe that its hard for me to.  Change of Seasons, changes of the CD.  I dont feel the suns comin out today.  Its staying in, its gonna find another way.  As I sit here in this misery, I dont think Ill ever see the sun from here.  And oh as I fade away, Theyll all look at me and say, and theyll say, Hey look at him! Ill never live that way. But thats okay Theyre just afraid to change.
When you feel your life aint worth living, Youve got to stand up and Take a look around you then a look way up to the sky.  And when your deepest thoughts are broken, Keep on dreaming boy, cause when you stop dreamin its time to die.  And as we all play parts of tomorrow, Some ways will work and other ways well play. But I know we all cant stay here forever, So I want to write my words on the face of today. And then theyll paint it And oh as I fade away, Theyll all look at me and theyll say, Hey look at him and where he is these days. When life is hard, you have to change.  Kickdown’s and Tie-Dye’s, $300 dollar hotel rooms.  Space case, monkey youre a junky.  Snort your lines, smoke your foils, stop wasting your coke and learn to cook.  If your gunna have a habit do it right.  Fright, and a knot in my stomach is what those words make me feel.  Gouls and Goblins, robbin your soul.  Some day you’ll learn and you can show me the foot steps to follow in because I need help I am free to admit it, my drug use has flip flopped my brain.  Its hard to retrain, so lend me a helping hand.  I want to be able to feel, I want to grow old with you.  We could sit on the fronch porch swing and talk about the daze of our youth, the sun would sink, the sky would explode into colors, and I would show you affection I cant yet acheive.  Change is hard.  I’ve long since retired, my son’s moved away, I called him up just the other day
I said, “I’d like to see you if you don’t mind”.  He said, “I’d love to, Dad, if I can find the time.  You see my new job’s a hassle and kids have the flu, But it’s sure nice talking to you, Dad It’s been sure nice talking to you”.  And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me He’d grown up just like me, My boy was just like me.  We would reminisce as we heard the children laugh from outside, we would collect antiques.  Notalgic weather is around the corner, as the colorful dead leaves are piled up.  I watch my father lean up against the rake and stare into the flames, the smell triggers memories for me, and I wonder what my father is thinking about.  I wish I could tell him I love him, I wish I could say alot of things but there is some mental block going on. I wish I would have done things different years ago, I wish I would have done things different a week ago.  The cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon, Little boy blue and the man on the moon.  When you comin’ back to planet Earth son?  I dont know but will get together than, will get together than.  Rerocked by Habitual Offender, Feelings by Klone, Words by Seedless.  Mixed-up, Shook-up, Meddled-up Mess. Just speeding away, was James dean for a day, had to crash, Valium did help that bash.  Take a walk on the wild side and the colored girls say…
Doo do doo do doo do do doo.

Peace [of mind],

Ahh…  The sunlight is shining thru the cracks of my blinds, I can see the orange and red’ish glow behind my eyelids.  Before they even get a chance to open the robot takes over, ‘Where should I score today?’…’I hear the Kid’s Spot has nice nickles [$5 for about 100mg] cant really beat it, 24 bags for $100 bucks, although I hear they are on the down-slope of there potency run, typical.  The Blue Bag spot had a murder a day or so back and the possiblity of some dectective pulling up is high, but the dope is good.  I feel like staying on the south side of the west side [split in two by the expressway], if worse comes to worse the Skittles spot is always prime dope but I fucking hate to have a jab of dope on me each bag stuffed with a Skittle making stashing it a bit more problematic.

Fuck it, I roll out of bed pick some clothes off the floor and break out my wake up shot, empty, drench, filter, suck, hit, ahh…  Those fleeting 3-5 seconds of a rush is what I live for, nothing gets in the way of letting my problems and worries dissapear for a brief moment in time.  I am in the city in no time, hang a right onto good ol’ Independence and hang a tight right, fuck it Kids spot it is.  Nice they are hudled in there usual mass, counting money, counting out blows and rocks to the usual clientel.  I drive past slow and yell out I need a pack of blows, than turn around in the culd-a-sac.  By the time I pull back up to them I have my money organized.  A young kid 14 yrs or so runs up to my window.  The deal is done.  I have a couple bag shot loaded up and I am poking for a vein before I even hit the expressway.

Rush…  cruise control on, and the windows roll down, music gets played, and I think about not much but the usual.  Why the fuck am I doing this, spending $$$ upon a ritual I am habitual at but yet one that I hate in the pit of my stomach.  I wrestle with the dark and good side for a bit, exhusted, I pull into a nice suburb and go buy a magazine and a bottle of juice, pop another bag into my arm and go sit outside in the downtown courtyard, I try to write some in my pocket journal but all that really flows from my pen is people rushing to and fro, I wonder who has what pills in their pockets, who is stoned, I wonder about the soccor mom’s and see a few I’d like to ‘kick the ball ’round with’.  That quickly ends as I have no sex drive.  I have no drive at all, except that of narcotic bliss.  Erasure of my conscious being, a walk in the clouds, comfortably numb.

I shuffle back to my car, pop some xanax and pull back home, where I listen to more music, shoot more dope, and ignore phone calls.  When will this life end I question myself, I can go 10 yrs. back in my journals and read the same stuff.  ‘So and So’ went to go cop at the ‘Unbelievables’ than some random scratching of the pen and soon it ends in a big ink blot.  Passed out cold, pen in hand.

I want help but I care not to ask for it, I am not going back on methadone, I dont really feel like kick’n in a rehab as its summer.  If the illusion is real, Let them give you a ride, if they got thunder appeal, let them be on your side, Let the Good Times Rolls.  Fell into a sea of grass, dissapeared among the shady blades…  The children all ran over me screaming ‘tag’! You are the one.

You are the one?  The one?  what does that mean?  Will I prove to myself that I can beat this god-awful disease of addiction to anything intoxicating.  Bubbling spirits, crackling freebase, blurry eyed speed runs, couch-locked after a few bong loads, in outer-space after a puff or three of some PCP.  How ’bout some LSD, me and the stars, fractured moonbeams projecting a spirial staircase to the heavens, it reminds me of the structure of a DNA strand.  Will I ever touch land?  Or will I hover in pharmacutical recovery.  Soon, soon will be the time.  I have been saying that for awhile but I am starting to feel the time is right, split town, and dont look back over my shoulder at the brillant shades of purple melding into orange and crimson.

I am close, I feel it, its just a matter of DOING it, shit I have been on Suboxone [bupe] for so long I forget 5 years?  Pretty damn close, I was on that bitch with in days of FDA approval.  I have wasted my life long enough, was it a waste?  Or was it fate and a learning cycle I must complete untill I can become completely selfless and return to the basics, grassroots, evergreen trees, mountain passes and girls named Mary-Jane.  I will date I girl by that name before my time comes.

I am going rock hunting tomorrow, fun eh?  Well, I enjoy it and there is a good spot I have found a few arrow heads lately.  Am I living truth or rank deceiver, Am I the victim or the crime, diseased or have the wool pulled over my eyes.

“It’s a joke. Greed and the desire to take drugs are two separate things. If you want to separate the two, the thing you do is make drugs legal. Accept the reality that people do want to change their consciousness, and make an effort to make safer, healthier drugs.”

Jerry Garcia
Rolling Stone
Nov. 30, 1989