Posts Tagged ‘injection’

smoking meth

2 pm I take a taxi over to Shelby’s place. Her X Brad is there and they are both really excited to see me. I have the money—they have the contacts
It’s time to do some serious drugs

First up brad says he knows some guy from who lives not far away
I say I want 200 worth and he heads off
Shelby and I chat—it seems that no time has passed since we met and we always get on well— but we can’t resist bitching about how long brad is taking

Finally Brad is back
I think it looks a bit light
But bugger it
Stick it in your arm it will do you no harm
he mixes up and brings out three 1 ml syringes with about twenty mills in each

He gives me a shot—I know it’s gone into the vein in my hand when I see the blood
Then comes a substantial but not transcendent head rush
I feel like my senses are more accurate
My head feels clear as glass
I’m pinging

Then we get some beers and start some serious drinking
Shelby gets a call saying she can get a good hundred from her friend Su
So the anticipation builds again—Brad is still there so in theory I could still shoot up, but I thought fuck it— I’m going smoke this shit
Su rocks up with the meth and I pay a hundred
Brad divides it up and puts my share on aluminium foil
I wait until the smoke gets thick and white then suck it up with an empty Ventolin
The smoke tastes bitter, but not unpleasant and the rush hits my brain like a runaway train
Wow smoking is as good as shooting
I feel electric surges through my whole body and my eyes open wide
After about three smokes all the meth is gone but I’m buzzing all over by this stage and my teeth are grinding
The world is infinite and crystalline and under my control
I am the Ubermensch

Then Shelby gets a call offering a point for fifty bucks
Fuck me we’re going to get even higher
In ten minutes it’s here
This time I smoke it through a proper crack pipe
No thick white smoke is wasted and soon I feel like I’m towering over the universe at hyper-speed
My eyeballs are popping out of my head and my jaw is moving
I think I’ve had enough.

The Smack Poem

Posted: February 6, 2015 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

heroin
Let’s get on
We’re gonna do some downtown
Because we have money and rebellious tendencies
And we have the right contacts
First I give my money to the guy
Then there’s always the waiting
Time slows as if stuck in molasses
Then it’s here in a little paper package
We go thirds in a hundred bucks worth
My mate mixes up in a spoon
With water from a boiled kettle
We have swabs, clean fits, even a tourniquet
All the fits are made up
He can’t find a vein in my hand
I look over to my left inner arm and see one
Faint blue snaking down towards my hand
Embedded in my pale flesh
My mate inserts the 1 ml insulin syringe down to the plastic collar in my vein
He pulls back on the stopper and a bead of dark red blood appears at the top of the smack solution
A perfect hit, first time for that vein
He pushes the stopper in,
Halfway down, he asks if it hurts
I say no
He pushes it in all the way
Gnarly narcotics are hurtling through my blood and into my rapscallion brain
A gorgeous warm numbness permeates my consciousness and my body feels soft, profound and infinitely heavy all at the same time
It comes on slowly
In a couple of minutes, anxiety, pain and paranoia have left me
I am in a perfect physiological state far superior to normal
This is the ultimate hangover cure
Just like Iggy Pop
Just like Kurt Cobain
Just like William Burroughs
Just like Lou Reed
I’m a citizen of a sacred dope kingdom
I’m a poppy-powered Dionysius
I suck the sap of the sweet somnolent flower
I’m curled up and comforted in a chemical bubble
A beloved son of a hedonistic god and blessed with holy analgesia
Pupils pinned to points in an expansive smack space with a subversive geometry
A heroin Houdini as I again dodge the habit the pigs and the politicians say I’m supposed to have by now
Like many other people who know how to use and not abuse
‘You’ve got to watch your quantities,’ as Keith Richards said
Just for six hours I lurk in a heavenly hagiography of hopped-up heroes and soft mellow feelings
Valhalla for the chemically impaired
Enlightened and emerging from my introvert shell
So free of fear that I cross over into confidence and charm
Enjoying the companionship of my fellow wastoids
Kurt always said he felt more sociable after a shot
Social anxiety dissolves in opioids
The ultimate answer
To almost any problem
Is thirty three bucks worth of skag
Coming soon to a dealer near you

chemistry
Bush Chemist
He’s gone now,
But what sticks in the mind most,
Is his preoccupation with finding
Ever more stupid ways to manufacture things to stick up his arm.
With prescription medicine, methylated spirits, baking soda and various other crap,
When he wasn’t sticking stuff
That he bought from someone else up his arm.
Amateur chemists and armchair experts abound in the drug world:
But it’s the first time I’ve heard that you separate the T H from the C when you’re making hash.
Or that a common antidepressant can readily be turned by chemical magic into speed.

When he sold me pot he quickly stole it back
He was always surrounded by a hurricane of little plastic bags
But he never seemed to sell much,
And I don’t think he will,
Unless someone has started buying bullshit.

1998: Portrait
Emergency in the house of lout!
Someone has put a Lou Reed album on.
The boys begin to rub their arms, and eye each other furtively,
‘Oh come on man, let’s get on’ someone says
Phone call time, the man is there.
He’s got the goods as they say,
and he’s coming on over.
He rides over on a Ducati motorbike.
With little paper packages of powder mystery,
Twenty five bucks and you’re off your head.
Then mixing up in a spoon, chucking in a cigarette filter,
The point of the syringe is in the filter sucking up the opiate juice.
A plume of blood in the clear liquid of the syringe, then it is pushed on home.
The sweetest taste in the top of my skull,
So warm all over and nostalgic for days without pain or perplexity,
I am the dancing bear of love and happy coincidence,
Tickle my fur, come for a cuddle.
We all feel so warm and loved inside by a thousand fuzzy koalas,
But from the outside it doesn’t look so good,
As we nod off in the corner.