Sunday, April 20, 2014

exsanguination.

[Well, do we really believe all of the old methods of the healers and apothecaries?
Do we discard them as remnants, apocrypha, obsolete, archaic? Barbaric?
How do we ever call them wrong with all of our current psychosomatic, placebo drugs and treatments?
(Don't draw that arrow out of his chest, the aim was straight and true!)]

bloodletting pt. 1

The first time I had a recreational needle in my body, I was barely into the first 6 months of my drivers' license. I had to have to three people there to guide me. I told them I absolutely wanted to do it. Two of them pushed me into the corner formed by the refrigerator and the wall in an apartment that contained no furniture, only shoes and boxes. I tried not to watch the needle, but in my paralyzing fear, I was enraptured, entranced, fixated. I watched this beige liquid, punctuated by measurements on this tiny cylinder. I watched a flash of pink and red splash into it as the plunger retracted. I watched a callous thumb press.

I watched the plunger depress.

They let me go. They loosened my belt from around my arm.

I felt a hot arrow in my chest, in my arms, and I coughed. I felt my blood surge with something new and watchful. I felt something primal and tribal and human inside me. I was really real, I was really alive and living and new, and I could do anything.

I went straight for the door, straight to the edge of the balcony, and threw up. I vomited over the rail until my vision started to cloud with speckled, colored static. I felt like death could strike me where I stood, that wrath could consume me, and I wouldn't mind. I felt no need to beware. I felt like something needed doing.

Keep in mind, the direction we're going in this case is straight up. Up, up, and away.

I watched the next two, my fear and general hatred and loathing of syringes fast fading. I helped on the third.

I learned to feel for the distinct, but tiny "pop" that one can feel when you've hit. To pull back for the red cloud, sometimes pink. I've learned to release belt and buckle, to release band, t-shirt, dinosaur, tie-off. I've learned to stay, or keep, anyone very still. Lest you miss. And that shit burns.

My skin turned to fire and ash that night. I was exalted. I was in the court and chorus of all the seraphim. I was a self-styled ascendant of faith and fate. I had learned forbidden wisdom.

The salient idea here, however, is that the mind and body only abide this for a certain amount of time before both desire to return to the original state.

Luckily for me, this state lasted plenty long the first time. I felt I had mastered astral projection. In my friend's car, I had astrally projected. I was traveling time and space through cigarette smoke and droning, redundant, and repetitive music. I was riding a wave of space and time.

It never really felt like that again, and I think that's a constant problem with users.

That's not to say that it never felt good again, it was just never like that first time.

I was in a sea of stars and dark and night, and no one was going to take me away from that.

I didn't sleep for four days.




.... more later.