Friday, July 20, 2007

the robot voice

My entries sure have been few and far between. Shane (my bestest buddy) wrote a poem for me! Here's how it goes:

She sleeps with the sun and walks with the moon
She stares at her reflection in a spoon
You can't judge her for that
She knows where her head is at!

Shane is such a sweetheart. I threw my roomie out in the street. She promised a thousand times over that she'd have her half of the rent payed on time and come rent day, she's nowhere to be found. In fact, I still haven't seen her. Hope she didn't get roped off! Actually, I couldn't care less. I gathered her crap and put it out on Dixie Highway. Now when I say I "put it out on Dixie Highway" I don't mean I placed it on the sidewalk or at a bus stop. I mean I scattered her shit all over US-1. She picked the wrong manic-depressive crack-smoking heroin addict to fuck with, you know? Joe (my old roomie) served his 10 days in the county lockup and is back to living with me at the motel. He used to snort a lot of heroin, and he asked me specifically not to offer him any and if he did ask me for some, to tell him no because he doesn't want to get back involved in that. Props! I wish it was that easy for me. Sometimes I wish that all my connects would just disappear into the stratosphere so that I would be forced to quit. Ah, wish in one hand, shit in the other, and see which one fills up first...

Me and Greg are back together after the son-of-a-bitch dumped me on my birthday. I hated him for a couple days over that, but I can look back and see what he was pissed off about- me and Shane! But Shane's old lady is out of jail too (she gained about 15 pounds- girl looks good!) so now it's back to Me+Greg and Shane+Kim which is the way it should be. I'm not gonna say I don't like Shane, because that would be a lie. Sometimes I think about giving Greg the ol' Fuck You note and taking Shane as my own. But I'm really in love with Greg, although no one understands it. I've heard people say that he's a creepy old man (he's 49) who is taking advantage of a young girl (I'm 22) but it totally doesn't seem like it. That could be part of the whole "taking advantage" part though. Whatever, I'm not your average 22-year-old. I know where my head is at! I'm more like 22 going on 50.

My heroin habit is spiraling out of control. I shot 15 1/2 bags yesterday and finally had to go to sleep at 8pm to prevent me from doing any more. I also shot coke yesterday for the first time in almost 2 months. Just 2 shots! It was nice to hear the robot voice again (that's Micheal's term for how odd everything sounds right after a big coke shot) but I was glad that I barely had any. The last thing I need is to go through a whole pile of the shit to where I'm shaking too bad to hit a vein and end up with 2 totally numb arms from missing. Ugh. I did them 2 shots back to back, followed them with a shot of dope, 2 joints, and another shot of dope. I was shitfaced! Felt great. Argh, that's the problem- that it feels great! I wish getting high felt shitty, then maybe I would quit. Actually I don't think I would stop getting high just cause I didn't enjoy it. I would be a lot more depressed though. Fuck! I thought I had it that time.

I met a new friend out on Dixie. She works at one of the "jack shacks" and says she gets at least $200 per custie. Why do I care? She says she can get me a job there! Yey! Problem is, my tracks are so noticable that I wouldn't hire me if I wasn't me. I found an awesome vein on my inner arm between my wrist and my elbow and I managed to put holes down the entire length of it. Once you mix my lack of common sense, my desperation and my need to get high, anything can be done. But it's all bruised and swollen, and... well, I'll take a camera-phone pic and see if I can't get some new pictures onto this mo-fucker. I guess that's all I really have to say- I don't know what I came on here to really talk about.

I'm hooked on these smoothies called Naked Juice, especially the one called Green Machine. Props!

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

"as far as hookers go, you're like fucking Hemingway"


Later on in life
Something in my mind will slip and
Down, down, down I'll trip and fall on my pride

Loathing myself for all I've done
Sun, stars, and the moon have died
Deader than I've ever been

Living a lie I don't even understand
Submerged in catastrophic confusion
Dreams and reality become one and the same

Losing the last shreds of my sanity
Smiling, because I know that I
Did it all to myself


I wish I had a vein
I wish each day didn't bring a fresh wave of pain
I wish that I was sane

I wish that I could cope
I wish that I could smile without being full of dope
I wish I had more hope

Of course I love a good hit
But the rest of the time it just makes me feel like shit
I wish that I could quit

I wish I wasn't bored
I wish my depression would finally reveal it's core
I wish I wasn't a whore

I wish I wasn't cursed with charm
I wish I could wake up without a needle in my arm
I wish I could cause some harm

I wish I made more bread
I wish I could quiet the noise that fills my head
I wish I wasn't dead


"You shouldn't have finished that dope, Michelle!"
I just woke up and I'm going through hell
I would give both my legs and an arm to get well
And no one has shit that they're willing to sell
Crying and craving that damn needle stick
I won't survive another cold-turkey kick
This is the monster that I'll never lick
Pain I can handle, but I can't take the sick

If I don't write poetry sometimes, my brain feels full and it literally hurts. I don't pause and think about what the next line or the next rhyme will me, it just flows out of my mind through the pen and into the notebook I have set aside for my poems. I mean, I'll go back and fix shit but I'd rather not improve upon them because I like my poems best in their natural state. "LSD" was written during a strange acid trip. "I WISH" was written after I struggled for over 15 minutes trying to hit a vein, then gave up for a while and whipped out the notebook. Amazingly enough, after writing the poem and tying up again, I hit on my first try. Maybe my brain just needed to be emptied so I could concentrate on what the fuck I was doing. "RUNNING OUT" was written in mid-sweat with tears streaming down my face. Killer. I guess I'm pretty good at writing poems. Someone wrote me an email and in it he wrote something along the lines of "as far as hookers go, you're like fucking Hemingway." Mad props. I'll take that as a compliment, no other way to take it. I guess.

I got myself a new roommate, a girl this time! A workin' girl too. I would say she's the only Dixie ho I could stand to live with. Street meat, har! She's a big time basehead and shoots dope but she doesn't have a habit. She actually doesn't know how to boot up, she always has me hit her. I don't mind, seeing that she has to go through my people to cop and therefore always ends up breaking me off.

I smoked too much crack last night and ended up having to take tons of my Seroquel just to come off it. I don't know what it was about the dope because it really wasn't that much, it was just super good and I got super-jonesy which I usually don't get from smoking crack. Shooting powder, that's a different story- I'm all like more more more more MORE!!!!! Another thing that sucks about shooting coke is that after the first shot my hands shake like a mother and it's hard to hit. I'll get a vein perfect, but when I go to push it in I shake and the fucking shit moves on me so I see my skin start to swell and I'm like fuck! Then I have to stop and find the damn vein again and hope my hands stay steady enough to get off. Cause missing with coke sucks, it burns and then the spot goes numb and you can get an abscess real easy. If my hands are shaky when I'm shooting up, it's better to try and hit my foot because then I got both hands free- one to hold the needle steady and one to draw up and push in the plunger. I haven't shot coke in a minute though. Hooray for me! As good as a screaming coke shot feels, it's not really worth the aching jones and the difficulty hitting a vein and the having to do it every 5 1/2 seconds and the always-there possibility of doing just a wee bit too much and having a fucking seizure. Yes, I have coke seizures! I don't actually remember having them, because I black out seizures. But I've heard from several different people that after coming out of a coke seizure I'm scared of everyone and everything around me and I literally start screaming at the top of my lungs. That must freak people out, especially when they're high on coke too. I know I'd freak out if it happened to someone I was getting high with. Crazyness.

Blah blah blah, this is one long-ass post, huh? My head was so full and I had to empty it. Isn't that what a blog is for, to empty your brain to complete strangers? I can't think of another reason to have one. Writing is fucking catharsis to me. One of these days I'm gonna write my whole life story.

Right now I'm hanging out at a friend's house, typing away on his laptop. I was gonna go to the library today to update but I managed to get there less than 10 minutes before it closed. I didn't have my phone on me (I had forgotten it at the house and my roomie had it because she doesn't have a room key and didn't want to leave it in the unlocked room) so I had no clue what time it was. God forbid they equip motel rooms with a fucking clock of some sort. Usually the microwave tells time, but not mine. Shitty.

Greg dumped me on my birthday! Can you believe that shit? He was jealous of Shane living with me so he hurt me bad and dumped me. I spent half the day crying. I trusted Shane with my fucking life and I left him alone for one night to go to Miami and he sold Joe's phone to a crack dealer. The worst part was that when I asked him about it, he denied it. My best friend in the entire world looked right into my eyes and lied to me. That cut me DEEP. I don't know if I can ever trust him again! He wrote me the sweetest birthday cards though, and Greg didn't get me shit. Nice boyfriend, huh? But me and Greg are back together for some reason. I really do love him though. Everyone I love hurts me. He has the other room key which is why Billi (my roomie) doesn't have one.

My life is so goddamn complicated...

Friday, July 6, 2007

our daily thunderstorm

Happy birthday to me! Now I'm 22 years old.

Just checking in after being gone a while. My dope habit is better than it has been, but it's still there keeping me in check. Yesterday I was sicker than I've been in a while, and none of my 4 dealers felt like answering their phone. Out for the weekend, bitch ass dealer? At least answer the phone and let me know so I don't continue to dial your number for the next few hours and burst into tears when I get your answering machine.

I left detox and moved in with a male roomie. He payed half the rent and drove me around all the time. Last night he got arrested taking his chica on a crack run, and he doesn't even smoke. Got pulled over for only having one headlight and found a warrant for a failure to appear. I checked police blotter and found out that no, they didn't do a process and release and yes, they did take him upstairs. I might have to find myself a new roomate/ride around the city.

Shane is staying with me. He doesn't have a heroin habit so when I throw him a bag he gets twisted. Jealousy jealousy. Greg hates that Shane is living with me. More jealousy. Truth is, I am sleeping with him. But so what? He doesn't have to know that. He doesn't even know about this blog. Har!

Went to Miami Beach for the fourth, it was pretty uneventful. I didn't bring enough h with me so I was sick as a dog pretty much from the time the sun went down on. We watched a movie, which I continued to say seemed like we had walked in right in the middle. After watching most of it, my cousin read the DVD box where it clearly stated: "Disc Two". I asked if we could watch Disc One next time I came over.

Been smoking tons of pot lately, mostly because of my room mate (Joe) is a major smoker. Been off the coke though, with a few exceptions. The weather sucks here in south Florida in the summer- hotter than hell all day and all night except in the afternoon, when we get our daily thunderstorm. It's pouring right now. Don't know what else to say really... except that I MISS BLOGGER AND OPIOPHILE!!! I wish I had a laptop or something.

Until next time.