I imagine them, short points, long points, orange and blue caps, shoving them into any vein I can find on my left arm or maybe my thumb or maybe my forearm. There are so many possibilities, if only I could find something to IV that would work. Amphetamines and benzos that will never dissolve, better to shove it up my nose or run my head into the wall a few times and pass out. The hardest part of being in a new city is no connects for those hard to find treats. It's for the better when it comes to coke, and dope, but god I would die for some. I've heard that down here the drugs are much better with the close proximity to Mexico. My brain is drooling at the thought of this, longing for a time when the coke man could come any night at any time. All the needles around the apartment, the poppy seeds scattered on all surfaces, used alcohol swabs and q-tips--the place where we felt most comfortable. My mind seems to be waxing poetic, as I have only slept three hours since two nights ago... I fucking hate insomnia.
I didn't take any amphetamines today, so that I can sleep tonight. I long to take my clonazepam and fall deep in sleep, no chance of awakening until tomorrow morning.
Why does the needle seem more important than what is going into it? I crave to use it, but couldn't care what for.
Rested minds may help me understand,
Lucy
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