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Monday, January 30, 2012


Hey, it’s good to see you.  Do you have everything?  I am glad you could make it.  Are you sure you want to take this tour?  Hold my hand in case it gets too dark.  Remember you are just in my memories; this is not your reality.  The time machine portal opens in 5 minutes, so make sure you are prepared to enter. There is no turning back once the smell and smoke hit your face.  Here we go. 
We got in later than I thought.  It’s three AM and the orange light in the white room is swaying back and forth from the bass of the music creating a strobe light of shadows on the wall.  See…. in this world sleep doesn’t exist.  People’s eyes are much too wide open to shut, and the black part in the middle is how much energy is left in that individual.  If you are hungry, there is some wheat bread and some mayo in the frig, just don’t eat the cheese.  Find a cup that doesn’t have cigarettes in it, wash it out no matter what, and you can get some water from the fosit.  I am sorry about the smell; I agree with you, it does have a sense of thick sticky mill steam that seeps out of everyone’s skin like sweat after a night of drinking.  If you are feeling claustrophobic in this small room with all of these people, then we can go outside and get some fresh air.  But you won’t because your body is tired from the nightly activities, and the nothing you have been doing for two nights straight.  So you will just sit here like everyone else, itching your head and waiting your turn for the next time the glass choo choo train comes around to you.
Your mind is racing a million miles an hour as you sit on a baby’s red trike in the corner of the room.  Your mind wants to be active and outgoing, but your body is weak, fragile, and shaky from the smoke that has made you skinny and pale white.  Not only pale, but now you are getting red sores on your face, and they itch…bad.  No matter how attractive the opposite sex is that enters the room, no one looks or cares.  There is nothing more sexy than the glass train.  There is no better feeling than the thick cloud of smoke entering your lungs and taking you to a faraway galaxy.  Your smile is so big that it starts to hurt your face.  You have so many ideas and emotions that you just start crying, then laughing while the stranger next to you rubs your head and tells you everything will be alright.  Your legs won’t move but your hands will, and your hands are the ones that are ripping out your hair from the scratching that is taking place.  You can’t stop because it feels so good.  You have no idea what time it is as you wait for your turn to talk.  Everyone is talking over each other, no one is really listening.  Your teeth start to feel loose, only because they are.  The white smoke is now a part of you.  You are a cloud with no name, a dream that has no chance to accomplish, so you sit and wait for nothing. 
You are in a room full of strangers, including yourself.  The light seeps through the window shades as people duck for cover.  A brave blank face gets up and covers the window with a black blanket.  A movie starts to play, and you watch their black eyes watch, wondering if they realize that what they are watching is reality outside the black blanket.  I guess the movie to them is make believe, and the world is really a place full of living-room skeletons that suck the blood from one another as the sun rises and sets.  The smoke is thick and bright white, so dense you could make it a meal.  You feel alive even though you are dead.  The talking never stops. Their chatter toward each other is intense, almost tricking you to believe they are going to put down the glass train and walk the walk in the real world.  But no, it’s just talk. 
The high is beautiful, the high is fantastic....and that’s how it traps you.  The smoke that dances around the junky house might as well be guards not letting you leave.  You forget how it feels to go to the bathroom because you stopped eating days ago.  Your conscience makes your stomach turn when your phone blinks from an outside caller.  Like an alien from another world just made contact with you for the first time.  It wakes you up for a split second, and you are shocked at what you see.  You are shocked to find that you are a fly on the wall, nothing more.  Your reflection from the mirror makes you look away fast.  You then proceed to beg someone for another hit, because you have no money.  You are taken over by the smoke, and you will do anything to forget where and what you are.    There are no names or faces, just who can offer what, and who knows someone who knows someone else who can get what you need.  It’s like a bad pyramid scheme, and you don’t want to be at the bottom. 
It’s time to go.....I know you want to stay; please don’t fight me.  We need to leave and get back to reality.  Remember this is not really happening; you are just in my memories of the past.  I left this world with only a few scars.  I am just glad you can leave clean and untouched.  Grab my hand, the portal leaves in 2 minutes, you have already seen too much.  Say goodbye to the land of Meth, and don’t look back.  Attitude Nation 2012

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