Thursday, 12 May 2016

Soul Poison

Sometimes I've been only straight person in the room, the beat pumping, sweat pouring and the beautiful people all around. The gorgeous people on those magic, pills take on new faces, like masks made of flesh their features distort and you realise they're someone else tonight, a black eyed, twisted remix who left their soul in the toilet they downed their pill in or snorted a line off a toilet seat. On the outside they are zombies on the inside they feel amazing but I find it utterly disturbing.

There was a death of a friend that seemed like suicide, he looked like wreak for weeks before  he died, he talked of a future while resembling the undead so when the phone call came that he died of an overdose I shouldn't have been shocked. I  cried for a  night and barely ate before the funeral and then when it came I watched people who had a missing part and a story that ended too soon, there would always be a split in out souls.

 Thanks to drugs I've been to friend's funerals not weddings, a parent watching their child's coffin go past never gets less harrowing, children left too young by a parent's sickness and selfishness is an awful thing to see, the images of young, confused faces talking about how they loved daddy will always scar my conscious.

The likelihood of dropping dead form drugs is surprisingly small, mix pills with our favourite drug booze and the risk of ending the life you wanted to enhance gets higher.

And then there are the half lives, wandering around town, you remember the star they were before , you remember when they had a soul not poison, you remember when they had hope not destitution and then you see they now wear a mask like a lost child with frightened eyes, all sense of self gone, they become a bag of pills, powder and smoke while only a tiny part of strength and self remains. You  wonder if they can come back but many are in their mid 40s and as I talk to their skinny faces about their chaotic lives I know I have to accept then for what they have become.

It always started so well, drugs seemed like the perfect way to bond with friends and like  the human reasons for finding new countries or exploring space we did them because they were there and their illegal status just made for butterflies when we took a trip to the toilet with our best friends and life became a movie not a chore. We took designer drugs, we lived in our designer tee shirts ad took pride in our fabulous narcissism.

 For some of us out teen depression and isolation needed a cure, our emptiness was just too horrible and burdens we could never talk about. Dancing in a freezing filed was like freeing our demons so we could have a childhood way better that the first one and the comedown was so hard they needed something harder to get through the week.

Many of us came out fine, we did a big comedown and accepted life couldn't be a movie but some kept popping pills, inhaling poison or even injecting soul rot into their veins.  When you get offered  pill, I'm not telling you to say no, I'm warning you, do you want to become a twisted remix of yourself? Do you want to watch a few friends die young? Is there another way to find what ever you really want from that poison and maybe don't bother.

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