Crackhead – A day in the life

Be advised that this post may trigger those who are prone to addictions. This post is written, not to glorify drug use with “war stories”, but to show the futility and danger faced daily by those addicted. Take time and patience with the addicts, you may the next one that needs the help. 

“Click, click”, the metallic voice of the AK told me all I needed to know. I sat down, quickly, in the darkened room. Behind me, open doors, black holes of doom in my mind, I had no idea what or who was waiting there. Two of them stood in front of me, one with the barrel pointed at my eye. “Grandma”, as they reverently referred to her, sat at the table in the kitchen, one bare light bulb lighting the table and a few baggies in front of her. Two more thugs stood by her side, armed, their expression disinterested, just another night to them. To me however, it was an epiphany. I was looking down the barrel of my life. The man with his gun on me shouted, “smoke it!”. I guess my frequent trips to their house that night inspired some paranoia, or perhaps the doses of high grade crack fueled their suspicions. It didn’t matter which, now, the paranoia was going to be mine. I took the pipe, hazed with brownish yellow on the inside, and balanced the large rock on the end. It was the size of my pinky nail. There was no choice, no option, it was smoke it or die. 

I held the flame to the pipe, melted the crack in place, and with my held tilted way back, lit it up. I heard the crackle of my mind as I took a deep breath of rock. I couldn’t finish it, I slumped back, my ears ringing loudly, vision growing narrow, my heart leaping furiously to catch up to an unnatural rhythm that would have killed most men. I slumped back in the chair, my eyes wide, my ears attuned to a supernatural level of hearing. Every creak, whisper, and movement was amplified to startling levels. A mind gripping fear took hold, all those dark rooms, all these guns, everything geared to annihilate me. Satisfied, the goon took the gun away from my eye, and smiled a knowing smile. I was not a cop, I was a rock star without a guitar. “Leave now”, he said, throwing the eight-ball I came for, “and don’t come back tonight”. 

You didn’t need to tell me twice, I left with my feet traveling faster than my mind, driving without knowing where I was going. I just wanted away. Away from there, and away from all that tormented me. Away from the loneliness, the pain, the rejection, the failure of my life. Away to a room, where all that waited was fear and my little rocks. No love there, no hope, only hours of torment, compounded by days of depression and sadness as I recovered from my 5 day binge. Sad life, sad time, another night in the life of a crack head.

It’s Illegal To Fly – A romantic encounter

“Do you love him?”
Deryn swallowed, then pointed at the screen. “He makes me feel like that. Like flying.”
  – Scott Westerfeld,

The following article was written by Anna Rindfleish, a talented author and blogger, in her blog, annaaa in a fairytaleee. Enjoy.

I can feel the sunshine on my skin,

The way it wraps you up in a cloth so smooth
It feels just as lovely as you once did 
Laying on hot sand next to me
Our shoulders would touch, and there’d be this awkward silence
Then you’d smile abruptly, stand, pick me up and rush
Headfirst like the linebacker you are, towards the crashing waves.
You’d laugh and I’d squeal, draped over your shoulder blades.
My dead weight was nothing to you

You use to kiss me under the water
When the waves came and I feared I’d be washed away
You use to say, “Babe, I’m right here,” 
You’d lean into me and kiss my forehead 
Plant your feet into the sand, your two hands gripping my face.
You’d kiss me and it would be sweeter than honey
Smoother than any diamond green money could buy
Bitter like straight whiskey-
You’d steal my breath from me.

I don’t like that my once cherished memories 
How they have these ways of sneaking up on me
I push them down; ignore the feelings
I avoid the places you might be
Close my eyes and count to three 
When I see someone who happens to look just like you.
I’m standing in the rain, its pelting drops mangles with tears
Molding my hair into knots, burning my skin like acid would.
I’m standing on a pier and I’m not supposed to be here.
A swell makes the waves crash over the wooden planks.
I should leave.
Then I remember the day we jumped.
A rush so rich, my heart thudded against my chest.
You held so tightly onto my hand
Then wrapped me in your arms just before we hit the water.

When we swam to shore we were arrested.
The cop asked us if it was worth it
You grinned at him so brilliantly, dripping salt water in the back seat of his squad car and said 
“Hell yeah.”
When the cop shook his head and asked why 

You said, “My baby wanted to know what it would be like to fly.”