The spike

The pains and torment of a heroin junkie

The Spike

   This is painful. I’m so sick; I will go through a few fleeting moments of pain to receive the pleasures of the juice. Once the spike hits my vein, I feel like I can reign supreme. Not supreme like Superman; supreme in the essence, nothing can stop me. My problems are no longer my problems. They’re there, they just don’t faze me. I’m in a good place. A place of peace, restfulness and, just plain layin low. Maybe while I’m in this place. All those issues that led me to this place will blow over. As they say

”outa mind outa sight”. I fear the pinch of the spike wearing off. I don’t want to experience the feeling of the juice running through my veins with nowhere else to go. Yes, I’m scarred and disfigured. My disfiguring is what’s needed to get me to that place. I know with every stick of the spike I’m one shot closer to death. Maybe one day the spike will break, and set me free