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AuthorTopic:  Book
beerandhiphop

Total Posts: 2905
Member Since: 2001
Location: Mass
posted Tuesday, March 26, 2019 10:02:55 AM    Click Here to See the Profile for beerandhiphop
Stephen woke up and wished he could be anywhere but here as in here being laying in a puddle of sweat drowning in an ocean of anxiety, but then again being where he had just been…lost in a repetitive restlessness that had no business being called sleep would be any better? The nightmares ravaged him, despondent, desolated, pre-ordained chaos and suffering, the only higher power that could rescue him today would be his golden calf a ½ CC 28 gauge ½ inch syringe because that clear greyish yellowish fluid (it was never brown anymore it once had been called heroin) had that “Midas touch”. Forgetting, anything to avoid total recall of the man he never was and the boy that died inside him, the only equilibrium for his racing thoughts though that counterweight didn’t alleviate these stresses it only put a heavier load on his soul. An 80s baby in two ways he was born in 1982 and cut his teeth on oxy 80s everything in his life appeared to mimic this very sad double negative. Capacity, it had once been a capacity for love now it was a capacity for more, 1 too many and 1000 never enough, insatiable and bottomless consuming but not the way a fire consumes, not a purifying cleansing but a rotting decaying dying kind of consumption…. 8 am… It was cool and crisp with a definite hint of autumn, but summer in Massachusetts was like that, even though the hint of autumn was just the faintest of promises his skin immediately goose fleshed as soon as he stepped onto the deck with a second generation cigarette dangling from his lips. Who the fuck had money for cigarettes? When you are injecting upwards of 5 grams of heroin a day it doesn’t matter how much you sell or middle man. How many dealers you rob or how many people you burn you still can’t afford cigarettes, especially when you’re smoking them every 5th minute or ripping the cottons out every 15 minutes to filter you’re shot. This was a peculiar blend of the Newport’s his woman smoked and the Marlboros, mavericks and assorted filters from him and hisCo dependants all rolled up into a piece of paper from a king james bible placed by the Gideons or perhaps a wandering Jehovah’s Witness, Did it even fucking matter? God was dead if he ever existed and hey the only paper that burned better was the toilet paper wrapper in the state penitentiary and fuck that he wasn’t going back but then again a convict always seemed to find his way “home”. 8:15 am… His finger tips were burned because hey, smoke it till its gone right??? Fortunately for Stephen he was on the Methadone Clinic, a paltry 120 mg’s. Snooze button, even though the sweats always came hard at night no matter what he could still go into a cryostasis like slumber and those 120 mgs.. Well shit That’s the snooze button for buddy’s habit those bells and whistles going off meant he was on the clock “treatment” just gave him a couple of more hours to cop. Part of his sickness was loving to hate being put under the gun, that pressure to provide for him and his was so misplaced it genuinely made him feel like a caregiver, never mind the children he had left in the wreckage of his past, in his own fucked up mind taking care of his tribe was some type of atonement, a RESPONSIBILITY but uhm, first you know he has to take care of #1 and all Steve’o had was 11 dollars plenty good for 3 bags in Holyoke but in Worcester well he’s got some work to do! 8:30 No license, No registration. No problem! Time to clean up the trash can and throw on something fresh! Old boy stopped “nodding off” years ago so burn holes aren’t really a problem anymore and you know from all the years he’s done well he is muscular and generally has some type of diseased charisma.. AND…..“doesn’t look like a junkie”. He now lived in the small grey area between death and no high at all but at least he
didn’t have to worry about burning his crispy ass wife beater while sucking his own dick (no homo)
because the only way we going down is if its down for the count, or for the get down, nodding of… HA! that’s for the new comer or the mark waiting to get his pockets and/or whole shit ran “I’m a fucking pro bro!”
8 am… It was cool and crisp with a definite hint of autumn, but summer in Massachusetts was like that, even though the hint of autumn was just the faintest of promises his skin immediately goose fleshed as soon as he stepped onto the deck with a second generation cigarette dangling from his lips. Who the fuck had money for cigarettes? When you are injecting upwards of 5 grams of heroin a day it doesn’t matter how much you sell or middle man. How many dealers you rob or how many people you burn you still can’t afford cigarettes, especially when you’re smoking them every 5th minute or ripping the cottons out every 15 minutes to filter you’re shot. This was a peculiar blend of the Newport’s his woman smoked and the Marlboros, mavericks and assorted filters from him and hisCo dependants all rolled up into a piece of paper from a king james bible placed by the Gideons or perhaps a wandering Jehovah’s Witness, Did it even fucking matter? God was dead if he ever existed and hey the only paper that burned better was the toilet paper wrapper in the state penitentiary and fuck that he wasn’t going back but then again a convict always seemed to find his way “home”. 8:15 am… His finger tips were burned because hey, smoke it till its gone right??? Fortunately for Stephen he was on the Methadone Clinic, a paltry 120 mg’s. Snooze button, even though the sweats always came hard at night no matter what he could still go into a cryostasis like slumber and those 120 mgs.. Well shit That’s the snooze button for buddy’s habit those bells and whistles going off meant he was on the clock “treatment” just gave him a couple of more hours to cop. Part of his sickness was loving to hate being put under the gun, that pressure to provide for him and his was so misplaced it genuinely made him feel like a caregiver, never mind the children he had left in the wreckage of his past, in his own fucked up mind taking care of his tribe was some type of atonement, a RESPONSIBILITY but uhm, first you know he has to take care of #1 and all Steve’o had was 11 dollars plenty good for 3 bags in Holyoke but in Worcester well he’s got some work to do! 8:30 No license, No registration. No problem! Time to clean up the trash can and throw on something fresh! Old boy stopped “nodding off” years ago so burn holes aren’t really a problem anymore and you know from all the years he’s done well he is muscular and generally has some type of diseased charisma.. AND…..“doesn’t look like a junkie”. He now lived in the small grey area between death and no high at all but at least he didn’t have to worry about burning his crispy ass wife beater while sucking his own dick (no homo) because the only way we going down is if its down for the count, or for the get down, nodding of… HA! that’s for the new comer or the mark waiting to get his pockets and/or whole shit ran “I’m a fucking pro bro!”

8:15 am… His finger tips were burned because hey, smoke it till its gone right??? Fortunately for Stephen he was on the Methadone Clinic, a paltry 120 mg’s. Snooze button, even though the sweats always came hard at night no matter what he could still go into a cryostasis like slumber and those 120 mgs.. Well shit That’s the snooze button for buddy’s habit those bells and whistles going off meant he was on the clock “treatment” just gave him a couple of more hours to cop. Part of his sickness was loving to hate being put under the gun, that pressure to provide for him and his was so misplaced it genuinely made him feel like a caregiver, never mind the children he had left in the wreckage of his past, in his own fucked up mind taking care of his tribe was some type of atonement, a RESPONSIBILITY but uhm, first you know he has to take care of #1 and all Steve’o had was 11 dollars plenty good for 3 bags in Holyoke but in Worcester well he’s got some work to do!

8:30 No license, No registration. No problem! Time to clean up the trash can and throw on something fresh! Old boy stopped “nodding off” years ago so burn holes aren’t really a problem anymore and you know from all the years he’s done well he is muscular and generally has some type of diseased charisma.. AND…..“doesn’t look like a junkie”. He now lived in the small grey area between death and no high at all but at least he didn’t have to worry about burning his crispy ass wife beater while sucking his own dick (no homo) because the only way we going down is if its down for the count, or for the get down, nodding of… HA! that’s for the new comer or the mark waiting to get his pockets and/or whole shit ran “I’m a fucking pro bro!”


9:00 He sat down in the beat up faded aqua rusted out dodge caravan and something happened….. When he shut the door the shadows clashing with the bright sunlight sparkled off something on the floor close to the crevice where the panels meet the frame. Gleaming, twinkling like a view of the north star to a lost traveler a CRACK ROCK shining. There’s got to be a stem somewhere in this car because if I go back inside to get my girls I’ll have to share and sharing is caring, but this is like a good hit I’M DOING ME DOG, How the fuck could I have dropped this? Oh I know, Xanax always leaves a breadcrumb trail composed of narcotics and paraphenalia and lastnight he was in the bars because hey….what drug addict fucks with clubs?… you get the picture, shit it’s possible in the stupor/paranoid complex dude was in he most likely hid this here and just forgot, preemptive thinking brilliant! WAKE UP!

Snap crackle, rocks from the docks like we cop’n tuna’n’mackrel, awwww yeah… FUCKKKKK I BURNED MY EYES LASHES damn man Shit this is grease. Oh noooo im scared to death. “I’m stuck” how can one hit fuck up the day? Maybe if I drive down by compare foods on main south I can get something. Good news with the change adjacent to the tangled mass of chore boy in the glove box I’m rounding up to 14 dollars and guess what, theres flacco on his bicycle, perfect timing, can really feel God working in my life! like his shits ok but he will take this 14 bucks BECAUSE…. those kingsbury st cats only take straight 20 I need to get to the clinic and im not going in there all geeked out, I cant even talk


9:30 Yoooo this shits garbage, I had to heat it like I was cooking some good coke You know how you let it bubble, shock it, THEN heat it again, fuck, I mean it KIND of took the edge off. Still cant believe I bought this trash AND let that non English speaking fuck push my pipe.. Ohhh shit theres Carla she has beans AND finnegans And shes deff working that strip looking for a lil love, LIGHTBULB, nothing says fat 20 rock like a stale Mcdonalds French fry that’s been rolling around under the passenger seat for a couple two… three maybe four months and you know im a hustler baby I always got an empty bag on me for a situation just like this the kids official like them stripes and whistles!

9:36 Yo so I got seven 1mg kpins and 10 finnegans for that “dub” and now im cruising up like 9:36 Yo so I got seven 1mg kpins and 10 finnegans for that “dub” and now im cruising up Lincoln st with a first class ticket to methadonia. On second thoughts I think that might be some “creeper dope” I do feel something. I think? Oh theres Rhonda shes like 7 months pregnant and missed 2 days last week so they cut her from 185 mgs to 175 mgs. Fuck that’s like putting the spike back in her arm brozay! IF they EVER EVER cut me I’ll cut the fuck out of them! Known stabber shit bag con man extraordinaire!

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