Forsaken love

Say something
Anything, at all
I want to see your soul bare
I want you to go out on a limb, take a dare
I want to see that you care
Please, take me there

Cause I love you, I do
You love me too, don’t you?
I don’t see it in your actions
I don’t see it in your eyes
Sometimes, though, I see it in your lies
Say something
Make me come alive

I’m staying here, should I move on?
Is your love, our lives, all gone?
What went wrong?

You gave me that crack
Now you can’t take it back
We’re stuck together, baby
Stuck for all time, maybe
Oh you make me crazy

And that’s it, isn’t that so?
That I’m crazy, and you gotta go
That I’m unzipped, and I can’t sew
Who, who will hear my woes?
I’m dying, like a black rose
You’re the only one that knows

Don’t leave me
Take me back
Why do you hurt so good?
Did you take me cause you knew you could?
Not for love’s sake
Love unforsaken
What wouldn’t I give if I knew you would
Forsake me

I’ve given you my all
Here I stand, six feet tall
Trying to show you I’ve become so small
Without you, there is no Fall
No Spring, no seasons, nothing at all
Oh please, don’t make me fall

I thought we had heaven
When we actually had hell
I thought love hurt
I think I’ve been cursed
Blinded by my passion, my need, my love, you treated me the worst
Can’t you see, my love, without you I’ll burst?

I need you
Inflict that pain
I have nothing to lose, everything to gain
I won’t run, I can’t
I just want you to take me back

Say something
Anything at all
Show me you love me
Show me you care
Please, I’m begging you, take me there
My soul I’ve bared
My heart has cared
Show me you love me
Show me you care


Sitting here, by the side of my bed, all alone
Surrounded by people
Who don’t care
Why am I the one always left out, always disregarded, always disrespected, always underappreciated?
Why am I the one thrown to the curb, knocked out, dragged down, by life?
Why am I alive?

I’m alone in a dark, dark world
Crying, every moment
Praying to be taken away
Praying to a God that doesn’t exist
No one would lay this much suffering on a person, no one should have to persist
I’m broken, ok?
Ready to die

I’m ready
Heaven or Hell or no afterlife at all
I don’t give a shit
I just want this one done

So when the time comes
And I’m done
Who will remember? Who will give my eulogy? What is there to say?
Another life suffered, now it’s over

City by the Bay

Put on my game face, say hello to another day
Plaster on a smile, say hey
To the man on the street, pissing his life away
Wait, that’s me, I’ve fallen a long way
All I’ve got to say
Just make it another day, in the City by the Bay

Cause I’m not ok, no
Forlorn and alone
Supplicate myself to the one who knows
Cause on the other side, the grass grows
So I’ve been told

Am I too old?

Life passed me by, a train in the dark
Fuck that, I live my life on a lark
On pins and needles, dodging dogs that bark
But the one thing hurting is my heart

Where is the kid I once was?
Covered in blood

What happened to my youth?
Taken away, in a coup
My darkness overtaking my life
Dooming me to nothing but a life of strife
Of bloodshed, of dying, yeah, that’s right

I am greater than death, so it seems
To my body, I’m nothing but mean
Reflecting the world, reckless in greed
And bloodlust
Ravaging my soul, digging a hole
To throw my body in
Just another day on the dole

Death, please take me! I pray in suffering
But vengeful Death wants more suffering
Throwing myself on the floor, outside his door, supplicating
Please, end the suffering!

I’ve seen too much
Seen the secrets of death and such
Is not meant to be known to mere mortals,
I’ve seen the darkness of hell
Right where I fell
Comatose, at the place I dwell

What can I say? It’s just another fucking day
Plaster on my smile, say hey
To myself, on the streets, pissing my life away
No one left to inveigh for a better today
No one to care at all
So I fall
Drifting down to hell, I whisper the secrets that I’m not meant to tell

The grass is greener on the other side

Come with me, throw all your cares away
Far, far away
Jump, leap, dash, run, hurry the hole to hell is closing up
Don’t be a sitting duck
We are the survivors of this mortal earth
Take us down into the dirt
And cover us with green, green grass

Cause I’m not ok, no
But no one’s left to care
No one gives a damn to dare
To wish on a young boy, let his life be shared
Let his life be saved
So that you may
Count him among your blessings
One saved, today

Sweet hell
Here I come
Riding the crystal fairy down the abyss
There’s not a thing that I’ll miss
Forgive me dear world,
But you’ve done this to me
Depression, drugs, now death
What’s left?
Have you no pity, no sorrow, no fear or knowledge of what’s best?
Condemn me while waltzing away to the door
That smile plastered on my face, covering up a sophisticated whore
Dance with me
Just once more


And I’m done

I set my sights upon tomorrow
Where the world is less filled with sorrow
When the time comes that I no longer need to borrow

Cause I’ve borrowed hope, and fear, and money and drugs
Wish I had traded hugs
Cause there ain’t no love
Between ho’s and a hard place
Trust me, I’ve seen that face
Pockmarked, sallow and base
Crying for more, ain’t none to have
Crying for peace, ain’t none to find
Only when you’re blind

I’m spun
Living the high life in the clouds above
Watching the world pass me by
Hey man, at least say hi!
Cause I see you ain’t so fly
I’ve seen you when you cry
So Hey, don’t judge, don’t hold a grudge,
Don’t hate
It’s never too late

Pass me another
Yeah, that’s it
Rolling, spinning, feeling good
It’s all right in the hood
But when you’re mama comes calling
Don’t be on the floor balling
She don’t need to see her son like that
On crack
Out of whack
Scrambling for a sack
Trying to take back
Those good times, he once had
Now, it’s all turned bad
And leaving him so sad

Inject me
Perfect me
In that moment, I alone
Know the world is so forlorn
Sitting with a needle in my arm
Hoping it’ll be just the charm
To pull me back together
Cause there ain’t no other
Nothing like crack to take you back to where it’s at
The hood
Where the moonshine’s always good
Where the cow jumps over the moon
And I heat up a spoon
Brown liquid bubbling up
Filling me up
So those times when I feel stuck,
Lying in bed, lying in my head,
I can remember the rush
Forget the pain
Just remember
The perfection of injection

And I’m done

Giving (Up)

Sex is a rush, a rushing of parts and beings hurriedly, slowly now, passionately working their way to the final climax to create something beautiful and great.

Sex creates great.

That’s not what I was taught
That’s what made me slowly go insane
Sex is OK? But only for heterosexual. Only in the marriage bed. Only for the purpose of procreation. Nothing else is acceptable.

Sex is an act between two humans celebrating their love and affection for each other, to demonstrate the extent of their desire.

Sex brings us higher.

That’s not what I was taught. I taught myself that love is bad, that sex is rape, that pain must follow.

I was taught to use drugs to numb the pain, to create an artificial sense of happiness and reality.

Those drugs only changed my perception, not reality. And when I broke through, I realized all I had done was be a dirty whore among these dirty sheets with no hope of salvation.

Salvation lies at the bottom of a bottle of pills
Take them all, make them sacred, give birth to new life
At the bottle of the bottle is a glowing light, drawing you nearer, closer, dearer
This life has broken you
Made false promises to you
Used fraud to induce you
But now, you have the power
And it is that hour
To seize back time
Rejoice in time
Make love in time

We are not eternal
Fraught with the kiss of death from the moment of birth
What a curse
But no, time, it bursts
Surrounding, confounding,
Giving presence to events
Making love worthwhile
Showing the start and course of our love, and where we shall stand

Salvation is our choice to choose, our life to have
With a life of rape and suffering, I choose pills for my salvation, and ease out of this life
But with a life of love and care, I choose life, I choose life

Drugs be dammed, I’m awake now
I’m alive
I never thought this would be me
Rejoicing in the light of day
I was told, you didn’t get that if you’re gay
But now I understand
And now I have overcome
And now I will seize the day and fly away!

I have been taught many things. What matters is what I lived and learned. That, alone, is the real reason for being, and the reason to press forward when all else seems so lost.

Never, never, never, give up

Grade A Ass

Recall can suck my balls
I prefer not to name the shame that was my game back in the day
You know, I know it, we all know it
Hooked on crack, ain’t got nobody’s back, but my own
Shot to hell, shit to sell, ass to grab, heart to stab
It’s all in a day

Hey boy, who you calling Ho?
You think you got more class than that ass?
Lemme see you try to run these streets for a day. Ok? Then we’ll talk class

I be ho’ing it up all around town
I know, you know, we all think I’m a fucking clown
But out on my own, when the shit hits the fan, you live the life you’re given, not some fucking fairy tale with princes and princesses waltzing around
Fuck that
I got real problems
Where my shit at? Fucking Ho
Steal off me, like I’m a nigga, that’s my shit boy, leave it alone
I be fighting for my right just to fight, let alone deal with these niggas stealing my shit
I ain’t got the time
Sure as hell ain’t gonna pay the fine
Cause when the time comes to call it a crime,
I bounce, baby, bounce

This ass for sale, fifty percent off, buy one get the other cheek free, it’s a steal of a deal
Cause you know what? I need that crack, ok? That shit you’re selling ain’t going for free, man. I’d take it though. Just holla when you having a sale. Until then, one cheek in front of the other one, sing it now, loud and proud

I ain’t no baggie chaser
Baggie? Please
Let’s talk hotel suites and Bentleys and fine moonshine
Baggie? Think I’m putting out for that? Oh girl you got some nerve, just cause your ass aint worth shit doesn’t mean mine doesn’t either. Oh no, clean that shit up before it rots on your Juicy thong
Cause you got me wrong
I’m a Ho, yeah, boy, I said it,
An escort, if I may,
Asserting my needs once I’ve got theirs by the balls
Cause they all fall
And shell out g’s man, shell out for me
Oh because I’m good, real good, not your five and dime ho
No bitch, you get me and you get class ass, prime grade, offers over, you pay full price, what you don’t think I’m worth it? Worth ain’t what’s in your head, baby, Aww, C’mon now kid, it’s in your heart!
I just fucking with ya. Your worth is earned on the streets, and I don’t see you doing no hustling, no grabbing, no stabbing,
In fact, I think you think you’re better than that
Hey nigga, ain’t a one of us that could survive this world alone, so go on, dig your own hole
I get my crack right where I know it’s at
I sell my ass right where the buyers at
I strip and moan to put on a fucking show, to these ugly, sordid douche bags thinking they’re better than me because they hired my ass? Oh no, bitch, you only rented it, you couldn’t afford full cost, you look cheap anyways, I’ll pass

Once I score I run to the alley, high heels clacking, getting the needle out even before I sit my ass down
The pain of perfection
Doing it just right
Making life just right
For that moment, we niggas all in this together
Let your love shine baby! Shine
Cause daybreak, what’s left is mine,
Taken aside to make it through the day
Snorting lines off toilet seats, God I hope that bloods not mine. Crystal slamming into my mind, my mentality, shocking me back into existence, back into life
Slamming me
Belt around my arm, flex, yeah, this will just sting, oh mother fucker it’s in I feel it it’s burning pumping through me my dick is hard like you ain’t never felt hard before
Yeah, that’s the good shit
For that, I’ll stay here all night

Cause I’m a classy ho
No hourly motels, no dirty sheets,
I escape in my Bentley where my client waits
Don’t wait for me
I got my shit, don’t need you til next time so bye bye
Lemme go make enough to get more crack again

Cause that’s the name of the Damn game
Different client, different needs, different payments, but it’s all the same. Enough to cover my drug expenses than you got we a deal, Shake on it. Or spit, mother fucker, like you are.

I’ma one them nigs that made it
Ain’t no shame
Take your shots in life
I shot further
So Fuck off
Maybe some pussy will take your small shot, go on then, son, try

I got my Baggie and a pipe and I’m feeling all right, flying high, enjoying the sun before our feathers melt off. I do what I do that I do. And thats doing enough.

Who you calling Ho? Oh honey, you’ve got Long way to go

#mylifematters Part VIII

Three little words changed my life, forever. You’d think that, just coming off a suicide spree, as I’ve affectionately named the preceding portion of my life, one would naturally turn to larger questions: What is life? What is the meaning of life? Why have I been chosen to live life, instead of succumbing to death? Any of these questions would be perfectly rational. Prisoners have converted for lesser sins. But I’m a proud atheist. Decoding that, actually, was the first moment of freedom I’d ever felt in my entire life. I was no longer in bondage, no longer a slave, no longer subordinate, no longer living in fear, no longer praying so many unanswered prayers, no more religion, with all its trappings that just cover up what it’s all about: profiting off fear, easing the masses, making social policy the role of the church, not the government. All of these churches have successfully done for millenia. The Catholic Church, especially, so enduring an institution, one wonders at times if they should be Catholic just to see what the fuss was about. Fuss is an appropriate word for catholicism. I was raised in a simple church with simple beliefs, closer to Quakers than Catholicism. Our church wasn’t even called a church, it was known as a “meeting hall.” This, supposedly, ensured that there was no single preacher to dominate the congregation, but rather that each member would contribute their share to enrich the general welfare, the general spirit, the general knowledge. It worked, to an extent, like one would expect any focus group to work. And, undoubtedly, the award of salvation is a strong motivation to exert oneself and exhort oneself to praising God. If that wasn’t sufficient, the punitive measures taken against congregation members who stepped out of line effectively beat us into submission. We saw that earlier with my mother. No, we were far removed from catholicism, with its Idol worship, its trapping, its preaching, its exhortations against sin, its removal of the gospel from the trust of the laity into the hands of an omniscient priest. That last part, particularly, stuck in the craw of my church. We had such a heavily footnoted Bible that it seemed like it was our duty to interpret and understand the Word of God. That was no matter to be left to be interpreted for us. No matter that the footnotes and copious extraneous works were, in fact, our Gospel, treated with more respect and reverence than the Bible itself. We were blindfolded, tricked into believing that we held the power of knowledge, but really, we were powerless. We could be talked into anything so long as there was a de minimus justification. I can’t stress enough the power of brainwashing. The catholics had tried it, during the dark ages, but we’re ultimately unsuccessful. Ironic, really, that our church praised Luther and Guttenberg for bringing the Word to the masses, when, ultimately, we took over the interpretation, so that access to the text was a prerequisite for understanding but not sufficient for understanding. In fact, it was heretical to make up our own interpretation of verse. Those matters were done for us. I love to relate the story, not that I know much detail, about how a young couple entered the flock, as it were, and were so surrounded with doctrine and preaching and worship and lifestyles that they, smartly, fled, and in the process, sued the church for brainwashing. I envy them. They saw, so much earlier than I, what a fraud the church was, what a fraud the concept of God was, what an abomination that hierarchical structures could breed such dependence and obedience, in the name of enlightenment! Well, anyways, the church quite handily had a fund available to settle such lawsuits, and the matter was dropped. I have no idea how many other people were paid off to keep quiet. How revolting. So, yes, the day I realized that God didn’t exist was a moment of true freedom, and would profoundly affect my life by allowing the choice and power to determine my own values and standards, with great deference to philosophical giants, to the power of Logic, but, ultimately, it was my choice and my decision alone. There are, I strongly believe, certain Hobbesian rules and principles that no man can run afoul of, such as murdered, without bring society back into a stats of nature, which was so “nasty, brutish and short” that no man could desire it, in fact, that every effort would be made to maintain a society in order to avoid devolution into the state of nature. Religion, for many, handily played the role of organizing mankind and providing a common enemy, the devil, which is always effective for holding disparate groups together. Like a nation losing its grip on its populace, the mere invocation of an enemy that would destroy us all gives rise to a sudden, strong sense of nationality, of civic pride. Hitler knew this, and the Nazis were one of the finest examples of how any group of people can be held together by banding them against other groups: Jews, gays, communists. Simply declare those an abomination, and you suddenly held the power to take over the world. Anyways, religion, as it were, is simply the opiate of the masses, the drug we’re fed to keep us subservient. I’m not a radical,  not recommending overthrow of government, in fact, I love government. Strong government is the best antidote to religion, by providing a sense of belonging and community without invoking unnatural spirits and ghostly beings. Government is truly an atheist institution; it is the refutation of this principle that causes so much strife and warfare. Our own forefathers saw this, that there must be separation of church and state. But we never learn, and those who don’t learn are doomed to repeat the mistakes of their past. So it is.

Rambling as that may have sounded, I intended it to highlight how important this next event was, so important that even God had no power to intervene.

It started so simply. I was up in Seattle, after my parents had hauled me home, and was living with a friend, Frank, in a wooden boat moored at Lake Union. It wasn’t a houseboat, those were sneered upon, nor one of those flimsy plastic shells people so love to revere, but rather an original wooden boat, two cabins, two bath, galley, living room and dining area, all below deck, and a large and spacious upper deck that proved quite sufficient to hold even the largest parties. Frank was, frankly, conservative and religious, but the  topics of homosexuality and religion never came up, so we were able to forge a relationship anyways. So it was that I was up in Seattle, having hauled my laundry by bike from the dock to the laundromat a mile away, and I was just sitting there in the lobby waiting for my laundry to buzz. It was a beautiful summer day in Seattle, the kind of warm, sunny day, with rays of light glistening and sparkling in the water, with green, soft grass and just a hint of a breeze, the kind of day that makes Seattle worth living in the rest of the dreary, rainy, gray year. I was, like I said, doing my laundry, playing on my phone, killing time. Well, not “playing” exactly, more like cruising. I was on the mobile version of Adam4Adam, which I think I mentioned before as being the new, although that still existed. This new site allowed you to choose individual pictures of guys in the same neighborhood as you, and strike up a conversation. Their profile would already list their age, height, weight, body build, hair color, and, conveniently, sexual preferences, including whether they wore protection. Despite all the trappings of providing a “social forum” for gay men, it was, in all respects, a sec site, a hook up site, a site where sex was the first and last thing on every mind of every guy in every profile picture. This predated Grindr, which took the same concept but made it location based by GPS. Phones capable of that weren’t ubiquitous back in the day (Oh how I’m dating myself), so the best we had was what the person listed as their neighborhood. This worked until everyone realized you could only seen other members in the same neighborhood; it wasn’t long before every profile listed “Capital Hill,” the gay part of town, whether that person lived within striking range or not. So it wasn’t always easy to find someone that was literally in the same neighborhood. I suppose that’s asking a lot, to have a cute guy in the same neighborhood, online at the same time as you, looking for all the things you’re looking for and having all the qualities that you find attractive and, conveniently, lived right next door. Straight people don’t expect so much. In fact, there’s a comic expression of “s/he was the One for me,” as if the location didn’t matter. So convenient that most people found their “One” often within the same area code, and looking a lot like them (racially, at least). I find myself sidetracked again. Because the point of this was to say that I was cruising for sex online, on my phone, while I was waiting for the mundane task of laundry to finish so I could go have some fun and enjoy this very pleasant day.

Generally, I was fairly successful online, meaning that I usually was able to find a guy I liked, nearby, that liked me too and wanted to meet. Well, fuck, actually, but once in a while there was coffee involved. So, at this time, there was  certain guy I was talking to, trading innuendos back and forth, hunting without saying that we found each other attractive. Finally, it came right down to it. He invited me over. I said yes. Now, here come the three little, innocuous, innocent even, words that changed my life forever. His next message: “do u party?” Aside from the glaring observation that he couldn’t be bothered to type out the word “you” was the equally glaring observation that this wasn’t a well formed sentence of the English language. “Party” was being used as a verb, not an adverb or pronoun, not a “party” like an event that people attend, not a “party” like being a “party boy” that lived for the gay clubs. Not, just the word “party,” as an action in itself. It didn’t actually catch my attention as much as I just made it seem; there was just enough unusual about it, though, that I followed up with something like “I like parties.” It’s true, I did love a good party. His response: “do you know what party means?” Well, let’s not drag it out here, just tell me! My response: “obviously not in the same sense as you’re using,” or something to that extent. The response came a few minutes later, as if he was formulating just the right definition, just the right choice of words, to explain his intentions. Finally, the reply came back: “it means Tina.”

Let break for a second to process. Some of you may be street savvy and quite familiar with this term. Others, like me, had never heard it before. I mean, I knew Tina Turner, and Christina Aguilera, if you wanted to stretch the usage of the word, but I’d never heard of something called “Tina,” as an object, a thing, maybe even an event but certainly not referring to a person or place. Vaguely, truthfully I knew what was up. I knew, without knowing, that he was offering me the chance, for the first time, to experience drugs. There, I said it. He wanted to do drugs with me. I didn’t know what “tina” was, but I understood what he was proposing.

Let’s back up another step. I was a good kid, followed all the rules, made good friends, made smart choices, excelled at academics, yes, even we to church, for a while at least. I wore khakis, not jeans, polos and button-downs, not t-shirts, parted my hair to the side, not up in a Mohawk or messed up in a bowl cut, both of which were popular. No, I defied style and expectations and dressed my own way. Actually, I dressed the way the church wanted me to dress. And if I didn’t dress that way, not only would my parents find out, but one of various “monitors” might discover and report me. You see, the church kept certain people at certain schools and provided oversight to those students by strategically placed members of the congregation. In fact, there was very little you could do that was not under the watchful eye of the church. One guy, young adult I suppose, had an affair in Mexico, and the church found out and disciplined or expelled him. How they discovered that information  is completely beyond me, but it did mean that I’d better watch my back around town. So, I was a good kid. Even when I left the flock, so it was called, I still performed well academically and socially, proof enough, for me, that religion wasn’t  necessary to the proper function of every day life. Even down in San Francisco, although my morals tipped a little, I was still a good kid, at least in comparison to the lifestyles I encountered. So, when  a good kid is offered drugs, by a stranger, that good kid should be mindful of his upbringing and resist the offer, maybe even calling the police in the process to arrest this drug dealer. That’s what  good kid should have done. That’s not what I did.

Remember, I was fresh off my suicide spree. I still wasn’t happy in life. I had tried, at this point, potentially every single combination of antidepressants, anti-psychotics, anti-anxiety agents and God knows what else. Point is, I’d tried it, and it failed me. Why do I say that? Well, someone who is not depressed does not attempt, thirteen times, to kill themselves. Obviously, I was not happy, and the medication wasn’t helping. So here I was, in pain, depressed, anxious, unhappy and miserable, not knowing what to do or where to go to find relief. I just knew that salvation did not lie at the bottom of a bottle of pills. I’d tried that. So where did it lie? Well, I was being given an opportunity to find out, at least rule out drugs, and I was going to seize the chance. Nothing could possibly make my life any worse, so there was no harm, no foul. And if things improved for me, praise be Jesus, or drugs, as it were. So, I said yes, I’d come party. I finished my laundry, hopped on my bike, huffed and puffed up the backside of Capital Hill, and made my way to his place. You know, I can’t remember his name. What I do remember was what happened.

pop more pills
feel the chill
live the rush
just a crush

an addiction, all my own; a lifestyle, one I chose
may I get another? 
life, I mean
this one doesn’t go down easy

a flicker, flame, beacon in the dark
a spoon, a pipe, doing it on a lark
who hurts when I fall? 
not I
not I at all

a bottle in front of me
a decision to be made
do I take the medicine? 
or swallow the poison pill? 
isn’t that really what I’ve been doing all along?

see through the looking glass
can you still fit through that door? 
has life become just a chore?

drink the potion, my sweet
lie down beneath these sheets
when it’s over it’ll all be over
when it’s done your time has come

hanging on, not letting go
I want to feel the thrill
of life
beyond the pipe

I want to feel the rush
of waking, flush
with life

it cuts like a knife

slit your wrists
smoke a bowl
live or die, who’s to care?
who’s to hurt? 
not you, not I

alice fits through the door again
I am ready to embrace this sin
falling out, falling in
sodomy between me
and my pipe


like a pill about to crush
like the damned who live for the rush
I take my pills
and live the thrill

I die
needle in my arm
pills strewn around
who’s to care? who’s to know?
I just wanted to go
through the looking glass, again

-Alice Falls, personal writings, 2014

In this part we see, aside from my deep antipathy towards the church and religion, the first moments, indeed, the critical moment, when I said yes to drugs. I’ll flesh that out in the next chapter. This is getting harder to write as the memories become fresher yet more cloudy. Pun intended. You’ll see.

Before we go forward, I want to be absolutely clear. This is an essay on my life, which includes drug addiction. I neither condemn nor condone drug use. These are individual choices. I won’t sugarcoat the truth, but neither will I pretend that some of the highs, as well as lows, didn’t exist. Love, they say, is a many splendored thing. I aim to show, in a brutally honest fashion, why I made the choice to continue to use, what the effects were – physically, mentally and socially – and what it did to my life, and, for some of you, your lives. Some of you had no idea I was high, there was just something not quite right. Others of you knew, and judged, and ostracized. I’m not upset about that. Drugs are scary and sometimes the only proper reaction is to place some distance between yourself and the situation. What I hope to get across, though, is that I changed, I let the drug change me, but maybe, just maybe, there’s some recognizable part of me left inside this machinery of death. I want to know whether that’s true. I don’t have any answers. I’m going to let you read and see what happened and reach your own conclusions. I’m not looking for sympathy, though I’m certainly not hoping for antipathy; I want, to the extent that one who has never done drugs can, go give insight and provide a platform for understanding. No one lightly chooses drugs, especially, most particularly, not this one. There’s a reason, a good reason, why I chose to subject myself to hell. You see, there’s a little slice of heaven inside hell, and sometimes, sometimes you’re lucky enough to see it, touch it, feel it, caress it, before it’s all taken away again, leaving you in an abyss of emptiness, but never giving up hope that you’ll one day, once again find that slice of heaven.