Driving quickly through the night on a big red truck with no name, headed to a pizza place, where dozens of empty delivery motorbikes are parked outside.
People I have never seen walk the streets in a daze, but far more clear-headed than I am.
Am I really here? Are the answers waiting out there for me somewhere?
Cut the line now. Separate it into into a thinner, more manageable size. Quickly up the nose. Zippp. Then the other. It burns for a second, as your sinuses try to figure out what foreign substance has invaded their space.
The opposite of that. A fantastic urge to do something arises. Nothing in particular..... but something, somewhere needs to be done. If only we could figure out what, there would be a clear light at the end of this tunnel.
And that is the inevitable problem for abusers of cocaine and freebase. Plenty of energy, but no place to focus it. Just a draining burnout at the end of the trip, and the numbing erosion of the soul. There is not much good that has ever come from drug abuse, excluding those famous writers and artists that scribbled their hearts away and died young in a pile of their own vomit and sorrow.