August 17, 1995 – 11:37 Pm and its still shit out. The damp, cool air of the poorly insulated cabin reveals the scents of outside, its brisk and frigid out there. I sit back in the black, bent wooden chair and look out the window. Why do I feel so lost? How did it get so damn cold in the middle of August? I thought back to this time twenty years ago. Goddamn if I could only taste the sweat off of her upper lip once more. I quickly light another cigarette.
The chair creaks as I lean back and begins teetering on two of the already unstable legs I’m on. “What a strange situation we’ve found our selves in...life” the shrill voice came will unmistakable conviction to push a lost point. “Its so queer to come into consciousness and to suddenly be alive…isn’t it?” His questions were always rhetorical. I took a long drag off of my cigarette and tried to slip back into my memories. “I mean goddamn, you probably know better than anyone, Destroyer…” He was relentless. I looked out the window searching for something in the bleak, dark expanse. I noticed a rabbit hopping by in the dirt, completely unaware of himself. “If I die right now what will happen?” I whispered with an abrupt end. “Why does it matter, rainbow destroyer?”, “Yeah”.
I took out my kit and began my process. About a gram of black tar per shot, a bit of water, I heated up the rig and dropped a bit of cotton in there. Then I stuck the point into the brown soaked wad of cotton and sucked up all of the golden liquid and shot it into one of the bulging veins in my neck. After I had pushed the plunger all the way down I lit up another cigarette and smoked it all. “Why do you always only remember the bad times?” He said. That’s when the darkness started in again. I felt the cold seep deep to my bones and I thought about all the bad times. The last thing I saw before blacking out completely was the rain through the window. It made me think of the flood, but I didn’t care. I wondered whether or not I’d ever shit at all this year.