The speed of dark, inside a glass container, tiny crystals, are my saviors. Set fire to the glass, and watch my saviors melt, transform into a gas, transform into my personal Jesus, What a sick and twisted story no one should read. I'm flying, into the chemical mass of self destruction. My mind is spinning into several directions, my mind is bearing deadened fruit. The illusion is I'm happy, a synthetic form of adrenaline. Synthetic. As time flies, my self portrait fades. I'm but a blur. I'm but a f**ked up story that is forgotten. Synthetic.
I drift from place to place, smoking, snorting, disappearing into the pool of methamphetamine.
I drowned so many times.
Until the speed of dark took my soul.
My mind.
Until i didn't recognize myself. Addiction eating at my skin.
I'm no longer alive.
My face is sinking in, my pupils never normal, representing the pools of darkness, gates into my soul. Methamphetamine was my god and my satan, my love and my enemy. My friend and foe. But i was its tamed dog.
We are what we do.
Many times without my little crystal friends, I fell into a pool of homacidal insanity, hating everyone and picturing how they should meet the reaper. I was evil incarnate in my world. I was Meth,
Then i walked into my end, my darkest hour, and realized i was alone.
And I prayed for the first time in years, since the speed of dark took me.
and finally saw The Light.
And now, i'm clean.
