Baby Doll

I was coming up on a quarter century... So far, it was a life perfectly thrown in the gutter. Its almost too easy to convince yourself you do have sky high aspirations. Heroin is lovely at making it ALL feel extra magical. Masking her pain inside daydreams of luxury. You 'nod' out for a break of visions. Some wild, some weird, all of them pure joy. Nothing about the mundane day can touch you. Not with this escape. Every participant is apart of a delusion-ally incredible existence. Even sitting in a room all day; sky high full of kitten shit, wont phase you. You could see someone scouring the grungy, dust-mitten house; looking for a clear water bottle. Something 'clean' for that hit of pure orgasm.

These are normal scenario's I've walked in on while picking up from the 'spot.' You'll direct people, happily while high! Handing them new water; contently sitting in a hellhole. While in this version of 'heaven on earth.' My girlfriend usually waits out in the vehicle; Not ever caring for this interaction. Her unknown loss became my gain. I secretly obtain a hit for myself. She doesn't get that I've been an addict longer and need more. She thinks I'm purposely trying to be selfish. I don't know how; She's not comprehending that one of my hits could kill her. It's not a selfish thing. I hate my higher tolerance.

All the while, walking across an ally, towards the 'spot.' I have no guilt. Knowing she can be just as intuitive. She knows "what's good." We all are intuitive... we just ignore it. Trying to give people the benefit of doubt. Giving myself a partial fix; So I think, "FUCK IT. She's also here selfishly." This fulfills her ache for passion. I knock on the door and his main whore lets me in happily today. Asking how I'm doing; as she yells for him. Its a nice, fluid transaction. 'E' comes back with .7 of brown powder. Always a gem about hooking it up. I text him I needed a half... it's a normal request for me. He knows my preference. Only grabbing an 'eight-ball' if I'd be visiting family. I used my dealer 'Randy' for that. We tried to avoid him because of his perverted ways. Until we realized it came in handy. Still, most the time; we stuck with 'E.' Even though he only did smaller transactions. In the beginning; it was enough for a few days.

He quickly shouts for one of his bitches to grab me a 'clean spoon.' Knowing my preference. He's a very youthful 50 year old. The classic Hispanic dealer, all Catholic in-scripted. Golden bronzed skin with tattoos. Wavering on the attractive side. He's a cold heart-ed, loving pimp. A contradiction but very possible. He cares and I've seen it shine through. Life and the world have made him hard. I really need to bang one out; fast. Annoyed by the word at first. Realizing my childhood nickname; 'Bang' ended up becoming my two favorite addictions. Call it a morbid coincidence. Both are slang; shooting up and sex. When I bang it out in minutes; Addicts are always amazed at my efficiency. While their impressed with my timing... The judgement inside, tirelessly mocking, "why give out A+'s for failure behavior?" But I ignore it, smiling. Offering my assistance or making small chatter. That opiate rush climax isn't as long for me anymore. Still wonderful and better than sex... but nothing close to the first chase.

When I first decided to try it... For me, any type of heroin USE to be a hardcore knockout. Plus, a sneaker upper at the most inconvenient moments. To where I've passed out in the streets before. Its how I met one of my dealers. I began to feel frantic and rushed. Knowing I need to hurry. Only taking a quick taste of this batch. Making sure its worth grabbing more. I have a hidden kit; inside my purse, to shoot up. Choosing my favorite vein; a quick banger in the hand. I keep it fresh just for these occasions. Only needing a tight hairband. When I pull the needle out of my wrist, my headache is relieved. There is a vinegar taste on my tongue. Familiar; with a happiness bubbling inside my throat. Being here; makes anywhere like a second home. At this 'spot,' it's always a revolving door of visitors and roommates. He prefers sweet, submissive women. So its an unusually positive environment most days. After shooting up; I try to leave within five minutes. Hardly ever making it quick... Unless it is a truly desperate day. Which today it kind of is.

We have been binge-ing. She still prefers to smoke. Especially if she's waiting for me to prepare the needles. I entertain it because I know it makes her feel less of an addict. Inside; only thinking of all the waste. But the idea of using is still so taboo and foreign. Even while were dipping in... Now, I'm on a mission. Leaving the home with large steps. I float back to the black Toyota 4 runner; with a perfected act. A feigned kind of urgency. I'm close enough to see it written on her face. Suspicion marred by relief. Her brows furrowed and distressed. Jumping inside the SUV quickly; with an infectious smile. I check the clock; a fast 13 minutes. Probably not for her but I start unfolding the prize. Hidden inside a ripped off grocery bag. Its the size of a nickel but thicker; powdery, yet solid. We're both excited. Pointing out the red undertone and strong aroma. It's a promising batch. We know we should get more but were about to miss our movie. Quickly, I start breaking apart our fixes.

I'm telling her maybe I should hit her first. So she can drive to the theater. As I'm 'hitting' myself. She agrees. Knowing quite well she takes forever getting it in the vain. I'm relieved because her stubbornness comes out randomly. Sometimes wanting to prove she can do it. We have our needles and spoons hidden in awkward spots. I pull out an old c.d case. Just in case, always ready for the police. Picking our most recent water bottle. Pulling out my bic. Cutting off a piece of UN-used cigarette bud to "filter the cut". Dripping a quarter sized amount of water inside the spoon. Dumping in her peice; a chunk of rosy brown heroin. Powder above water. The water underneath looks like lightening; with strikes that glow dark yellow while falling down. Little streams of Heroin.

I like watching it boil in the spoon. Just like this: Powder over water; before the mixing. Using the orange needle cover to twirl it all together for a dark golden brown. Finally; throwing in the cigarette 'filter.' I gently place the 'point' in the middle of the sponged up heroin. Plunging back the juice. Almost worried this is too much for her. Regardless she looks eager. I can feel her anxious body. I look her in the face. For whatever reason, opiates clear up her skin. She's usually broken out. Now, there's this dewy hue; glow and sheen spreading around her cheeks. Her eyes soften for a moment and i really look at her dark hazel eyes.

Whenever she's excited, a green starts bordering the edges. Kissing, quality time and heroin are the only things that bring out the lighter honey. It's there now. It's selfish but I love seeing the softening that heroin does to all her features. It's why I've never pressure her to stop... The stress completely melted away. I look at her now. A grimace marred by anticipation. The nerves giving her features a glow from beneath. I can almost feel her skin prickle with anxiousness. I flick the 'point' towards her, "ready?" Showing off my excitement with dimpled cheeks. She responds in a tight, urgent smile. I know she's more in mental distress. It hasn't been more than a day. So I tease with my deliberate movements. "Give me your arm." I'm aggressive and playful. I grab the cut up exercise band from my 'kit.' Using it to cut off and centralize her blood flow. Patiently waiting for the veins to pop. Her's are pretty quick. I gently feel around the area. Deciding how quick the vein's move; is it everywhere or does it stay still?

Then, I need to glide the needle precisely in the direction of where her vein moves. When entering; using a slight angle. At about a half inch in; aligning it with the vein. That inner knowledge I use... is what helps me hit them the first time, correctly. Once I feel it in the vein, it's take-off! Plunge back, very slightly; looking for blood or no air bubbles. You do NOT want air-bubbles... I like to watch the blood mingle with the heroin. Just for a moment; ONLY shooting half of it in. Checking with the person. Checking with the needle; Making sure its still pulling back blood. (because it can move out of the vein.)

Then if they're ready... Plunge the rest of that black beauty inside their body. Always counting down in increments. I see the flush as it overtakes her body. Watching as her eye's turn to pin point needles. Then, when the fight is won; her lids, shoulders, and neck droop forward; hanging. The small unknowing smile. Showing a gush of emotions climbing through her skin. While her creamy lids pull at a heavy endorphin rush. Eyes fluttering quickly with a body struggle to stay upright. I giggle, Rhetorically asking if everything is okay. She only nods her head, leaning against the steering wheel.

This was actually written as a poem. My mind urged me relentlessly; It was the first one I turned into a song. That's when I added the Chorus and broke it into two pieces. Please don't judge the beginning. I think this was supposed to be my way of learning what I needed to do for compositions. Plus, be introduced into music and take singing seriously. This isn't my best... but i uploaded the original later on. Not knowing how to extract the vocals, to insert new ones. I didn't know how to do a lot of simple edits that would of fixed it. They were easily learned later on... Which is what I want to continue doing when I buy another iPhone!