Showing posts from March, 2014

Bound by blood

I had formulated many good intentions that morning. I truly believed I was going to pay him back that $300. Or was it $250. It was so long ago. It is hard to remember now. He handed me the drugs. The were pre weighed quarter grams and dimes. They were always short on weight which seemed fine because the customers were always short on money. I am not sure how I got set up selling drugs. It seems like a fairly ridiculous proposition to set up a stone cold junkie, let alone a female one, as a person to sell heroin in an open air drug market. The reality was I could always come up with some way to pay my debts.  I always was running some type of drag because I came to believe my own bullshit was real. I would overcharge or middleman or use the fuck out of my parents because I had the swagger. You owe me BECAUSE. Because my life was fucked. Because I was in pain. Because I had the best in my mind for the people directly around me. Because, Because, Because by this time, I did not know any

Article from a South Africa People Magazine


The Metamorphosis

I sat on the edge of the bed eating my little Debbie's Swiss rolls completely transfixed. I nibbled on the chocolate coating with no expectations that these delicious sweet treats might perk me up for a moment. I haven't eaten in a few days. The host offered me some of her oatmeal and eggs she got from the food pantry but those both require heating or cooking on a hot plate. I am tweaking too hard and my hand would be too unsteady.  My host begins the process in her elaborate satin robe. Though we are in a dingy little piss in the sink hotel, she has decorated this place to the point I feel I have been transported to another place where beauty still exists. She has wall hangings of orchids and curtains covering the one window with lacy accents. Her sink is surrounded by Japanese dividers and the closet has a forest green futon on the floor so friends can crash there. The bed has a comforter, duvet, shams, and a beauty jar where men can leave tips.  I would not be rude enough as

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In the era of AIDS

What was it like? “Don’t use that needle after me”, I say “ I think I got that shit” She smiles and continues “If you go, I want to go too!” I snap out of a nod and snatch the needle from her hand. She is nineteen and traveling from Oregon or New Orleans . I get them all confused. I am letting her crash with me a few days. She thinks she is in love with me because I am nice to her. She will leave me soon. She just does not know it yet. A pimp might snatch her up. He will sniff out that she left home because she was being molested by her step father. She is eager to please with no boundaries. Or she will hop the next freight train and run off with some squatter boy named Spike that promises better times ahead in the next city. “You cannot use my rig.” I pat her head like a child “ use this one.” I check the cap to see if it is sealed and hand her a new syringe. She thinks she is in love with me. She thinks she is hooked on heroin yet gets high off my cottons. I can

I woke up in a pool of blood

I woke up one morning in a pool of blood. Well, it wasn't actually morning it was still the middle of the night, I had set off down the hall of my hotel to use the bathtub. I needed a place with bright lights so I could get my hit. I would soak my body in the water. Then I would let it drain out then search for a vein. This was the only time people were not pounding on the door to use the bathroom. It had no toilet but it did have a lock. People would congregate in here in groups of threes and fours to pass the crack pipe in peace. The room was a hot box with no windows and no natural light. The would get spooked and come out in a puff of smoke like an exit from the stages of hell. I must have been up for a few days or maybe it just felt like this to me. The days blending into night back into days. I was selling heroin at the time. It had seemed like a dream job minus people trying to cut my throat to get me drugs. The dealers used to send out four packages. The Mexican runners h

Written for a friend


Guest Post- Camron

December 2012 The generic dun dun duns of some pop star from senior year of high school fills my eardrums. It reminds me of a happier time. A time when if I at least didn't have direction in life, I felt some misguided sense of purpose. Even if it was only to push her against a parked car, pants sagging that half-assed, wannabe-gangster sag I tried to rock back in the day, kissing her with everything I had. And a little something extra borrowed from tomorrow, thanks to the mixture of cocaine and oxycodone slowly filling me with its indescribable euphoria.  May 2013 I'm dope sick. Again. Why do I do this to myself? Do I enjoy lying to everyone who cares about me? No. Not in the slightest. Do I think about the fact that I've overdosed twice? Sometimes. Do I remember that time at old john's in the Windsor where I was more concerned about getting off - my goddamn veins not giving up even the slightest hint of that telltale ruby red plume - than calling 911 for the chick dyi

Guest Post "Hidden Alleys, Frozen City"

“It’ll change you forever,” they said.  “This job makes you cynical.”  Heard it often when I first started.  Cops say the same thing.    It’s true, my job has changed me fundamentally and forever, only it hasn’t made me a cynic.   I hope it never will.   Sure, I’ve seen the ugly side of humanity.  Daily.  But that  is why I signed up, to trudge al ong  the darker streets of my city among  those who find themselves hurt, sick, alone, afraid, beaten, shot down …  But humans are n’t irrevocably evil.  I’d rather believe people, as a whole, are fundamentally good, and   beautiful … sometimes tragically so.   Y es, we have the ability to inflict astonishing pain unto others and, especially, ourselves.  But this has only caused me to see how triumphant we can be at the end of it all.   We are some tough motherfuckers.  The resilience of the human spirit never ceases to amaze me.  We can find ourselves at the very definition of slimy bottom, having nothing, feeling nothing, seemingly  wanting

Empty Part 2

I saw a girl walking at the train station with her back pack. Her hair was pulled back in an extra tight pony tail. You could see the ligaments and tendons slowly writhing underneath the skin around her neck. She had different rings of sunburn. As if you could tell her age by the patterns laid out on her flesh. She had on a long sleeved t-shirt. He Levis were cinched tightly around her waist. They were probably pants she shared with her boyfriend. She walks through the train station on her way to find him. She doesn't notice me. I am just an observer watching life go past me. I am headed in another direction. I am on my way home. But we were in the same place. I feel the anxiety creeping up on me. My feet start to sweat inside my shoes. As I brush against the turnstiles, I feel the heaviness in my chest. I feel the breaths becoming labored. My autonomic systems are no longer in alignment. I feel hot as the redness enters my cheeks. The panic sets in as I walk further to the escal

The House On the Bluff

"Don't come back to this house until you get my Newports!!!" she calls. The door slams. My friend bolts from the porch "Let's get the fuck out of here." I can hear the dogs barking inside. All thirteen of them. In the driveway is a broken down Cadillac. This house is very similar to this car. You could tell at one time it was top of the line. Upstairs, there are bedrooms with crushed red velvet wallpaper. Inside the rooms there is a custom made two piece round bed. It was plush and fascinating to me. I could only imagine what it looked like in it's prime. Now it was covered in burn holes from someone sleeping in bed. There were awkward Louis the XVI looking furniture covered in dog hair. The dogs had to be released in shifts as some of them did not get along. There was a fat old cat with a ripped ear. He only came around occasionally. He gave you a sideways stare as if to say you know these people are crazy right? My friend could not wait to get ou