05/10/2021
The Yellow Brick Road
Book 1
Chapter 01
People wanna know. They always ask, wondering what it is that draws us back, back into the insanity of hiding behind locked doors and drawn blinds, peeking through curtains, searching for someone who’s never there, until they are, dragging you off to the psych ward, or maybe jail. They wanna know what it’s like without ever going there, to that place in insanity we call tweaking. They wanna get high without the high, like hitchhikers, never setting foot on the highway. They wanna go someplace they call insane, never leaving the sanctity of their own sanity.
They wanna slam some fu***ng M**h.
So, yeah. I’ll do my best to tell you what it’s like to slam, to dance with The Bitch, Tina, Crystal M**h, in a state of mind I call The Yellow Brick Road. I’ll tell ya what it’s like and just how fu***ng great it is. But, I’ll also tell ya how twisted and dark it can fu***ng be, because that’s only part of just how fu***ng awesome it is, if you’re ok losing your fu***ng mind for a little while. But, I’ll also let you know that words can never begin to describe what it’s like when the deepest part of your existence cracks and the purest ecstasy of all erotics gushes into your being.
I’ll forebode that there exists no place they call Oz on this Yellow Brick Road, and that you needn’t worry about the wicked wich, Tina, only the flying monkeys that always manage to steal the joy of losing your fu***ng mind.
Chapter 02
To set the record straight, I'll let you know that I’ve always slammed. And that smoking it, blowing clouds is for the fu***ng birds, rookies. I mean, like, if you’re gonna blow clouds you might as well try and f**k without ever making contact with anything other than the fu***ng air around your dick. It ain’t gonna be anything near what it is to feel the poison joy, married to the crimson swirls you just sucked into the chamber, seeping into your veins.
You’re not gonna feel the slam, the very feeling it’s named to be, engulfing something far deeper than anything you ever knew to be your deepest passion. No, this goes far beyond universes of what you ever dared to imagine, as far as pure pleasure could ever be.
Simply put, do it once and you’re a full blown addict, unless you’re afraid to admit to yourself, a self within you that you suddenly realize exists, that you loved it. And, trust me. You will. It’s just too fu***ng good not to.
Then, once you get here, once you join me on The Yellow Brick Road, all those 12 step, bu****it, fu***ng meetings are gonna serve as nothing more than fu***ng pitstops between highs, events you attend to simply kill time while you gather up the funds to facilitate your next series of slams. Because, as they say, even a million is never enough. And, I can attest to that, sometimes slamming beyond an ounce in a fu***ng weekend, all by my lonesome.
Yes. I am a rarity, a M**h God, one of only a few known to exist, someone who can load up an 8 ball in a 3cc syringe and Crazy 8, slam it all at once. But, that’s only half of what I’ve done on occasion, literally.
Of that, there are only 3 of us who have survived the challenge. But, it makes me delusional. So if you’re gonna throw down the gauntlet, if you’re gonna dare me, or make the challenge, you’d better be ready to sit on me for a few fu***ng weeks. Because, I’m gonna see spirits, The Fu***ng Shadow People, all around us.
I’m going to exist amongst the dead, people who have slipped the bonds of life while they were high, existing now and forever in a tweak, dancing in eternity, with the Bitch.
God, how fu***ng strange and wonderful it must be!
Chapter 04
For starters, all the fu***ng crap about how I’m gonna buy an ounce and nurse it? Yeah, that’s fu***ng bull s**t! It never turns out that way. It’s not supposed to.
The moment I buy it,it’s going in my veins as fu***ng fast as I can get it there. Like I’m in a hurry to hide it from the voices, the auditory hallucinations, that exist on the right side of me, literally.
And, of that I’m only now beginning to recognise the pattern of that physicality. It’s neurological, probably damage done to the neuro receptors on the left side of my brain. But, truthfully, do I really give a twisted f**k at this point? I’m too fu***ng far into this yellow bricked fantasy to turn the f**k around now. So, No. Realizing that it’s nothing more, or less, than a chemically induced psychosis, I always conclude that Imight as well slam on, enjoying the insanity of the insanity, the very reason I don’t stop.
Like that first time you masturbated, finding it unexistable to cease what you were doing, pushing forward, desperately driving on to know what it is that exists on the other side of the madness, you can’t stop. You never will. Nor, will I.
From the first time, it was already too fu***ng late. I, like you, am always going to do it until they find me with the needle in my arm, gone to be with the shadow people.
So, let me share the madness.
Chapter 05
Hours having gone by, being more than compelled, I peeked through the blinds, awaiting what, I wasn’t aware. I just knew it would arrive.
At first there were only 2, like father and son, minus spirit, they would wait outside my window, daring me to catch them. And, it mattered not how they knew that I was slammed, only that they were aware.
The game went on, night after night, my wanting to invite them in, if only I could see them, face to face. But, every time, every effort I made to speak with them was met with emptiness, nothing, no one other than the empty night awaiting me as I flung open the door.
There was nobody there, no matter how much I needed them to be, only the empty night air.
Then, finally, Phillip, my dealer and god for all extensive purposes, made me aware. It was an echo, a hope that once existed, me and my father together.
It was all in my mind.
He went on. “Have you seen things moving around? Are your windows opening and closing? It’s just the beginning of the reason we tweak. Can you handle the madness?”
7 years later, the answer was the obvious. I was ok existing with the non existent
All the same, just once I wish the duo would have accepted the invite. It’s lonely to slam alone, though far safer than when in the company of the living.
Then, there was something new.
For hours, awaiting the duo, or Phillip, who I’d fallen madly in love with, a white Chevy Vega pulled into the parking lot, in front of an apartment across the way. Not that, for any other reason than the hour of night, I should have noticed. But, much like the fly drawn to the flame that kills it, I was, all for good reason.
