The Drugs Don't Work

“What does it feel like?”
No words could describe the cosmic euphoria that I was feeling, the enlightenment that accompanied the vision of the universe through all of its divinity. So I could only reply in the best way I could.
“It feels like fucking Buddha.”

Unfortunately this incredible sense of well-being quickly turned into a suicidal decline of insanity. The feeling that one’s mind is lost forever isn’t the nicest of experiences along with the morbid thoughts that the only way to escape from such a place was through death. Then the feeling that I might hurt someone because I was in such a state further heightened such irrepressible anxieties. The best simile I could come up for such an experience would be saying it’s like having the best sex you ever had in your life then the lights switch on and you find out it’s your mother. That’s drugs for you.

Now my drug taking experiences have led me to enjoying such activities that involve being sleepless in a tent with a Viagra induced hard on whilst praying that the sandman would send me to la la land rather than skull fuck me in every facial orifice. How does such an event come about I hear you say? Well I was given rub-on Viagra at this festival, me being the generous person that I am accepts the gift. So this bad boy is in my pants, and after a long day’s worth of rave, speed, pills, and other assortments I come back to my tent. I was unable to sleep, unable to do much at all due to all known company enjoying dream world. So I am lying there, thinking what can I do? Then a light comes on and me being the curious chipper I am reach into my pocket and pull out the lovely blue Viagra cream. Got nothing else to do, so why not, so hey presto my lil’un is standing at attention! Unfortunately during the wrist activity that occurred next the nice-ities of speed and other substances wore off. So whilst pummelling away, I start to feel like death had just took a runny vindaloo shit on my brain. Now I am in this tent too tired, and too exhausted to even finish myself off. So there I lay all alone in my oven baked tent sweating my bollocks off, a cock harder than industrial concrete, and a head ache making me wish death was ever so close by. Now kids, this is what happens to people who take too many drugs.

For me I am getting closer to the point of quitting the whole lot. The excuses that I tell myself to hide the fact that I commit brain cell genocide are running out. My brain is quick and brutal in its responses to such justifications
“No you fucking dumbass, just because you've eaten an apple today doesn't mean I will be ok after you snort ketamine with cocaine. God I hate you so much!”
I can’t keep it up anymore, and I don’t want to. The body is giving up and so is the mind. There is so much more to life and I want enjoy them with more than one brain cell. I want to move onto bigger and better things like…..like………….aaaaah fuck.