The Mourning of the Broke Hustler

Here were are- together again. it is me and you. This is how I planned it. That feeeeeeling coming over me. But this whole journey is not what I wanted from a day. I just wanted this feeling.

I woke up this morning. That is always a good start to a day. As I open up my eyes, I see the clouds overhead. The orange and yellow beams of light are smearing with the streetlights. My eyes are having trouble adjusting to the colors. I am bolted awake by cramps. Fuck, it is happening again. I am not how the merciful Junkie Jesus allowed me to sleep but now the sick has crawled in with a vengeance. I pull off my scratchy wool blanket. I got his from some minister. They are extremely warm. Unfortunately, body lice also appreciate the fibers and nestle inside waiting for a new host.

 I am so fucking sad at my prospects for the morning.I grab some napkin and walk up a few cars. There really is an art to be a female and pissing outside. If the stream is too fast, it will bounce off the concrete and on to your shoe or sock. If you piss too slowly, it can dribble on your pants. This especially sucks because I usually have on two pairs. One keeps in warmth, the other is a deterrent against rape. Tight, thick jeans have to be cut off and most amateurs don't have the for sight to plan to cut a bitches pants off if she won't let you in during her moment of terror. I squat in between two cars. The smell of old piss combined with dope sick makes me start to gag. Fuck- I got some on my shoe. I pull up my pants and take inventory. I got $2, a syringe, and a whole lot of issues. Time to make something happen.

As i walk down, the hill I start humming to myself "Ain't to Proud to Beg...." At this point, I really am not to proud to beg. I have full dedicated myself to my life as a hope to die dope fiend. I spend my time blocking my mind. If I can only get as high as possible or at least maintain my heroin mental middle, I will be able to deal with any crisis of faith as it occurs. The dog turns on me daily but I still believe I have trained it to heel for me, to heal me.

I approach the dealers one by one "uno por gratis por favor. No mas deniro ta la noche " terrible broken, embarrassing Spanish. UGH. So fucking sick. The dry heaves are coming. Luckily, I haven't eaten since some time yesterday so nothing is going to come up. I brace myself again the wall. Fuck this shit, I am getting in somewhere. I head over to the parking lot. I see two junkies and a cooker. All I need to know is there.
"Let me put my two dollars in for the cotton." They look at me with disgust. This ten dollar piece is hardly enough for one person let alone two. "No you see this isn't going to get me well." I start leaning in. "I am not fucking leaving unless you give me that cotton. I have gotten you well a bunch of times (not true, maybe twice but oh well)". I am not leaving until I get that cotton. Plus, I am fronting them off. "Fuck!" he smirks. The girl that is with him has nothing to say. I just cut a piece out of her piece and he was not giving her much anyway.

I throw 40 units of water on that cotton and draw it up. I am too sick to fuck around and we are out in the open. I jam that needle straight through my pants into my legs. The fluid is burning my leg. "Thanks dude." I start walking away. "Hey, where is my two dollars?" I start rubbing the muscle. "I am not giving you two dollars for the dry ass cotton." I fucking win.

Next move- run credits. If I can get 5 people to buy a bag from Flacco, he will give me a free one. Trying to get a dope fiend to follow another dope fiend is the blind leading the deaf. We both are missing some sense but we need each other some how. Plus, I get a chance to see if anyone if buying some kind of quantity so I can try to get in. The best I have come up in an hour is a cotton. Fuck my life.

"He has the good shit man." "Don't go to him, that shit is weak." Not that I would actually know. All this work. This process goes on and on and on until I finally come up on my own bag. Am I planning on sharing this dime with anyone? Fuck no. I am willing to talk three extra blocks. I feel someone watching me from the sidewalk. No, I will not take you with me. Maybe later when I am well. This piece of dope is the most important thing in the universe. This piece of dope is my best friend. This piece of dope contains all my hope and love and desire. This piece of dope is everything.

As I engage in the ritual preparation, I realize that the day has just begun on a high note. I will still have to beg, borrow, steal, to get more by hook or by crook. At least we will be together. And I still have that $2.