If Marc Emery is the Prince of Pot, I'm the King! (upinsmoke) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2009-04-22 18:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | marijuana, speed |
Who: Marijuana and Speed
Where: Central Park
When: Wednesday afternoon
Warnings: Drug use, language, angst.
The dirt could tell that Marijuana needed to be let up and let him go, Marijuana rising to the top of the soil cleaned of all the black he'd spewed up on himself. It was still bubbling within him, needing direction but Marijuana told it to shut the fuck up because he still had one more thing to do before he could collapse in on himself, run away from the city and curl up under warm comforters to think about just how selfish he was. Just Speed, his darling little adorable brother who he was going to have to hurt in order to get what he wanted; Heroin.
Brushing dirt from his clothes, he texted Speed to tell him which part of the park to show up at, and found a bench, a different bench than where he had spoken to LSD because that one still smelled like tar vomit. About fifty feet down the path from the scene of that horrible occurrence, he sat, waited, toked almost furiously while he tried to figure out exactly what to say. Nothing was coming to him, nothing probably would and he simply sighed, lighting up a cigarette and alternating back and forth between nicotine and THC.
That wouldn't help either but if Marijuana could get through this, he'd let himself shoot up and that would definitely help.