I lost the. last thing I wished I had. I knew and neither spoke to me. I’m always the one talking people down off the ledge with a 44 pressed to my temple, painkillers and coke. I will hit rock bottom before anyone knows I’ve been in free fall. Give me one good reason to stop. “Give me one good reason not to do it.” Sang Elliott Smith. He did it.
Not my fault I can live through so much, at 95lbs some of the shots should’ve killed me three times over. The sedated life is like a black & white photo starting to blur. One more year and I don’t know if I want to see it.
I wish it weren’t so fucking obvious. Liars hate liars. I lie to survive. Surviving was enough but it’s time to make my mark or bow out before I make a fool of myself. Why did it have to be the guy that hated me for how I used?
How I now use. Why did you lie to me and say all those things when you just wanted him? My final mistake was stopping shooting drugs because maybe you’d love me if I changed. I changed and shit just got worse. I’d rather be high than the idiot in the middle who hasn’t been told he’s out of the game.
Now I write my own rules. No I am not better than IVing, no sniffing it aint much safer, or smoking or drinking. I am better than amateur games dressed in designer ripped jeans. Risk vs reward. I took the risk a thousand times and so collect the reward, which the majority of could not imagine in their sanitized little lives.
The thrill that with every hit you might die only doubles the excitement. Whats life without challenging death regularly? It’s a playpen, a leash, a security blanket. It is not life but existence. I lived through pleasure and pain most can’t begin to wrap their heads around, extremes of humanity just to touch the edge of reality. To become a seer. A prophet, a poet, a Demigod hearing beautiful music and rushing trains.
If death takes me take me fast. Party hard. No regrets, no borders, go go go go like Kerouac or Burrough’s. My blood is a one man chemical cocktail party, even vampires OD on me. Repulsion and disease over boredom and unease any day. I’d rather die doing what I love than wither alone. Maybe stay home, I’m a bleeder & feeling artistic tonight.
–Jack Blare
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