Within fifteen minutes of standing at NameRemoved park, Fernweh had a sixty dollar pebble of heroin in his pocket. It was the most expensive down we'd ever bought, (prior to the heroin recession in the west coast we faced months later) it was of a strange flaky texture, foul smell and disgusting taste. Skeptical at first, our apprehension melted quicker than the drugs as we vapourized them off ancient sheets of crinkled tinfoil.
The Lady caught us off guard. Once we exhaled, e sluggishly stumbled onto the subway, seduced by the intoxicating allure of Lady H She wrapped her silky legs around our motor skills and slithered into the furthest regions of our minds, swiftly transforming our entire bodies into erogenous zones and straddling the most sensitive parts of our entirety.
We nodded the subway ride away. Arriving at the easternmost station, we decided to try our luck hitchhiking - but not before taking a few hoots. We both quickly succumbed to the Grumps - though we didn't realize at the time. It's impossible for one to admit they have the grumps. We were convinced we were perfectly rational as we started vocalizing our displeasure with Squanch. She looked extra sad today, so we had to mention. She was extra whiny today, so had to tell her to shut up. Her questions were extra stupid today (which was probably true) so we had to counter by calling her an idiot and reminding her that she passed grade school for a fucking reason. This, I still justify - Squanch's oblivious ignorance was unsurpassed - I doubted that she could tell the difference between the men's and women's washroom. She was the only person I've ever met too dumb to hold a cardboard sign properly.
Another hoot later and I came to an unsettling discovery that reminded me of some unpleasant scenes. In days past, walking along Hastings street in Vancouver, I'd seen junkies traipsing around, flailing their arms at weird angles, half-convulsing, half-sleeping. I'd always wondered what state of mind they'd been in, and today I was to find out. As my mind collapsed under an overdose of dopamine, my body collapsed under an overdose of nausea. The two combined left me with the enthusiasm of an adrenaline fiend and the brainpower of a terminally ill patient; I stampeded around the station with half-shut eyes, trying to make sense of the gibberish coming out of my mouth. My movements contorted into an array of whacky, wavy, inflatable arm-flailing movements as we made our way out of the terminal.
I lurched like Frankenstein towards the beach that Fernweh led the three of us two. He was handling his dope very well. He, too, had the grumps, and was extremely annoyed with Squanch - but I knew him well enough to avoid speaking my mind to him. This always avoided confrontation. Because of this, he seemed to be fine with me - or at least, he held his irritation well. I later realized that this was no way to pursue a friendship, but I'm glad that his aggression could buck my insecurities and keep me shut up. If I'd spoken my mind more, I'm sure he'd have lashed out at me like he had at Hades, and we'd have parted ways before all the fun we had together in Halifax.
Anyway, we arrived at the beach. Fernweh was tight-lipped, angry and generous; Squanch was silent and sub-intelligent, I was clutching my stomach and stumbling around the rocks, babbling in Tongues to the refined spirit of Opium. Fernweh offered me another hoot, I declined. He climbed into his sleeping bag, I tossed mine onto the ground and fell onto it. Squanch cuddled up next to me (and how the fuck she wanted anything to do with me after the things I'd shouted at her was beyond me.)
It was apparent I'd get no sleep that night, so once I could stop myself from rocking back and forth, I sat on a flat rock and watched the horizon swallow the stars with my notebook perched open between my legs. This came out:
Souls can't separate our gaze from their essence.
Tears can only represent the difference between a glimpse and a stare.
Two eyes can work together,
but nothing can separate
a lonely gesture
except the empty spaces it createss.
A soul's resurrection takes more than its host.
To raise suspicion in the wake of curiosity is asinine.
Answers plummet to purgatory;
knowledge kneels down to pray to nothingness.
Subservient to satsfaction
an insatiable lust to know more
learns nothing but what it wants to hear.
Greed breeds its own seeds.
An answer can't be pleasured
by anything except the spread of its knowledge.
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