2018 I’m dying,I’m dying. I need heroin and now. I pull up my pants and tighten my shoe string belt around my no longer recognizable waist. I just got done defecating in the bushes across from Motel 6. I just got kicked out of trying to bribe them for another night. I demand you give me a free room as I enter the lobby with a bed bug in a cigarette plastic. Plus, it was still alive. Look at these bites as I take my shirt off in front of them. Scores of em all down my side. Look! “The manager says sir we found needles in your room after we switched you the night before and gave you a free room.”” “So what I’m a fucking diabetic, I’m going to sue your asses” the dude scoffs and says “your insulin is herioin? There was blood in the needle not to mention the cigarette butt cottons”.

Fuck fuck, I stormed out the door and grabbed my 3 trash bags of my clothes and everything I owned. Frail and dopesick I carry them across thr street. My bowels were turning into whatever the fuck that volcanos name is in Hawaii, were I first started using needles. I throw my bags in some bushes next to a carmax. Relieve myself. I look around and see some cardboard where a fellow heroin consumer musta slept with ants and old clothes. I fall upon my sweet sweet heroin King mattress. I’m really sick. I’m dying I kept repeating “fuck” was used probably 600 times that day.

I text my buddy who is down a mile at a different motel for a get well shoot. No reply. OF course, not its 11am junkies don’t wake up, and if we do, we are usually too busy trying to find a vein. I grab my 3 bags of my world and huck 2 over shoulder and one under arm and start walking. Having to stop every 5 steps to adjust my to big of thrift store Levi’s. I was a snail that was dopesick, leaving a trail of snot behind with each sacred limp to my drug buddy shit motel. Cars buzzing by honking. Yelling words I didn’t care to be called. As long as I got my dope. Fuck this left my bags half way in a bush behind a del taco and ran. Checked my phone and he said room 191.

It’s 12:30 pm now. It’s 90 degrees. I’m 104 pounds and wearing a hoodie. Colder than hell, I pound on his door to relief. No answer…. mother fucker. Louder knocks…he texts come back in 30 I’ll have a shot ready my dealer is in here he don’t like you. Fucking flaco. 2 hours later I’m shivering behind a dumpster. He texts “cruise up”. Thank fuck. I run like junkie Gump. Bang bang, he opens. “Wtf man” I moan smacking my arm. He is loaded and nodded out. “Nodded out lol,here” he handed my a pre loaded rig. “You gota go he’s coming back.” Fuck fuck fuck…. I run down stairs

I ran back to del taco where my bags were at and used a token for the bathroom and had to order a 39c taco. I left my sweater up and had no veins. Fuck. I was dehydrated. Did push-ups. Nothing.fuck. okay, let’s go poking. Finally, I managed to find a vein, and I missed half the shot. Fuck it, snot dried up stomach cramps gone. Eyes dried up. It’s 4pm I can now start hustling for 20 bucks for my next shot. I leave the del taco semi high, grab my bags and start walking to a walmart…..and so it goes