grungekid (grungekid) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2009-11-20 04:37:00 |
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Entry tags: | blues, grunge |
Who: Blues & Grunge
Where: Grunge-Blues House
When: Thursday evening
What: Blues hasn't been sounding too good lately
Warnings: Drug use, TBA?
More had changed in Seattle while he'd been there than in New York while he'd been away, but then again Seattle would never be the same for him again, while New York... well, he could have cared less about this place.
He'd hunted down his uncle with ease, him being the personified god he was the most used to feeling (and nothing about the way he could have said that would have sounded right) and when he got there, finally back in some place he might be able to class as 'home', the first thing he'd done was shoot up on enough methadone to send him into a coma.
No, literally.
He could run as far as he could go, try and cut himself off as much as he could but the itch, the gnaw, the ache of that something irreversibly wrong and different in him would never leave him... so he'd rather make do with a fake friend than a one-time lover, the one-time center of his world, a drug so addictive he'd sacrificed his core person for. His music was melancholic and jaded with the world, he didn't know why he was surprised and he knew there was no use trying to change what was done.
Methadone to keep him high enough to pretend it was the one he was missing.
He sought Blues out although he couldn't feel anything by this point, not even when he stubbed his toe on a bedpost. "Hey, Uncle Blues?" Could have been right beside him, he wouldn't have known.