Just a Junkie

Depression hangs in the air, thick like the cigarette smoke that fills this dimly lit basement where I sit and rot.

Its been almost a week since I've done any dope. I'm in to my hookup for a teener so I cant get shit till I get that taken care of. Hell its been so long since i did a load that i can wear short sleeves without being afraid of someone noticing my track mark.

I'll pawn my toolbox tomorrow, see how much cash I got, it wont be enough to pay off the fat man, but I might be able to talk Sawed Off, the kid next door to him into goin and scorin for me if I hook him up. If not I have other places I can get it from.

I never thought I'd say this, but I miss Kansas, or at least I miss the life I had back there. Since I came back to Aurora everything has fallen apart.

Now I'm just another depressed junkie, whining about his "life" and hoping someone will be stupid enough,or desperate enough to call it art.

If I cant hustle up a fix soon I'm going to lose my fucking mind. There's always boosting wire and taking it to the scrap yard but after getting busted today I'm a little gun-shy about stealing, I guess we'll have to see how strong the jones is.