I’m not crazy just euphoric

I am looking down at myself. My body feels so light and the sky is so crowded with these crimson bullets. I can barely keep my eyes open. The heroin is dominant over the blood in my veins. It’s in my head and I am happy.

Euphoria is in the air I gasp for. Passing out in the alleyways of Detroit. Ashland and Dwight are my heroin. I love the clouds that are glowing red and orange and pink and black. It’s all in my head they tell me. Dwight is shaking me trying to keep me from nodding out. I love you Dwight. I want your heroin to be my wife. I want your dirty dull needles in my veins. Dwight asks why I don’t go to a doctor about the seven absesces I nurture on my arms and legs. He doesn’t know I shoot five times a day now and like it like an old friend. I feel alive when I am on junk and dead when I am not so I live on heroin everyday for my entire life. I want more but don’t really care too much. The crimson bullets are my thoughts and I let myself be shot out of the sky and I land on my pillow of tracks and scabs and puss filled throbbing abcesces and needles clogged with fermenting blood. O love living my life this way. HEROIN FEELS LIKE IT BELONGS IN ME, POLLY! I am an ant to be crushed by price fluctuations and sociatal mishaps borne on wings of steel. Flight is in my head with the bullets that rip chunks from my flesh and I bleed words of fear fear fear pain hate heroin love. I want Dwight to fix me again, because I only shot 35 cc’s and I want 20 more. I won’t overdose tolerance is higher than a kite. Dwight clean needle burned silver spoon fresh cotton. Fist tie off needle into my vein. Dwight pulls back dropper blood flows pushes heroin in up to my brain. Heat shudder broken VCR tracking problems float. Euphoria Dwight loves me I want to kiss him but he says no. Rest and nod and the end. Please post this Sire. Polly must know.

By The Dying Euphoria

I may not be the average junk addict, seeing as I still have a few things going for me, but I'm a slave to heroin just the same. I'm a sad sight, no doubt, but that's the way life is, and you can't help it. So whatever you do, don't try and fuck with it. I like it when people e-mail me and reply to my posts, so please, speak your mind to me, if you wish. I have a blood, violence, and self mutilation fetish, so I'll spend a lot of time in the Erotica section, posting and reading. I write poetry, and I'll be posting thousands of poems. So please, check for my name often. If I disappear, well, I probably took my fetish too far...