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Some people just have to live the hard life, the bleak blue experience. Jazz or not, the nightlife is dark. It swells with characters from within and without, people with permanent rings around the eyes. Some live with too much passion, they go about life as though they were on fire, moving, talking, and living like some fire burned within, and if they slowed down one minute they might combust completely and lose all hope for the next experience. Sometimes I think even if these bastards found a bucket of water to extinguish the flame they'd ignore it and move right along in search of some thrilling bedazzling moment, fearing the flames nemisis. My last living arrangment was with a fellow like this. And while I admired his fervor and appetite for lifes juicy underbelly it seemed he was so bent on ripping through flesh and enjoying blood and sex all at once as to kill himself in the process. He was a twofold bastard. His body permeated a stench that only comes after years of heavy drinking and junk. Out of his poors seethed a snakelike metabolite of acid and ink. He would certainly die a spectacular death, all sprawled out on a vacant floor swollen with liquor and love.
As he would puke into the toilet I would peer into the the bathroom and ask him "Hows your evening sir?" His responce was to blow forth from his belly and choke on sweet vomit.
And then there are those who will look at you as a friend, befriend and you and be friendly, then in the presence of others treat you like shit and act like they are worth more than you without realising their stupid mistake, which was pretending to be your friend in the first place
somehow, my thoughts are more insane than the mind they spawn from
had a friend like that.
he had an archery target tattooed on his inner left fore-arm and a dope leaf with `born to be high` on the right.
he woke up each morning and puked for half an hour
skinny and shaking he could never eat until lunchtime.
once he fell asleep driving his f100 and fell out the door, the car ploughed into the side of a house, he woke up in hospital.
another time he was being chased by the cops and lost it. his car spun sideways, snapping off the wheels and grinding up the road on its belly at 150kph. lost his license for life after that.
we did datura together, it paralysed him for 24 hours, he couldnt move his arms or legs, had to drag him around all night, as soon as he could function he drank another dose.
he was killed as a passenger in a 4wd, driven by a drunk friend. a stupid ending for a beautiful guy who just didnt want to be here.