Itch. Love stories about Heroin.
I remembering walking through a dark hallway and people looked like demons. Their faces were gone, removed from the world, and looking into another one. Everyone’s skin seemed to be on the verge of melting as their eyes were lit with an ominous green glow. They were hyper and distant. They were also ready to kill, hungry for something beyond the taste of blood. They all looked like they were awakened zombies, trying to recapture their youth in this underground melting pot of demons, fairies, and sleepwalkers who just wanted to waste away beneath the Earth’s surface.
As we headed down the stairs, the volume of the techno house music raved through my ears and pulsated in my veins. It overtook me like a tidal wave. He grabbed my arm while leading the way past a sea of people dancing to the same beat. They all looked drugged, numb to each other yet amazingly moving together in sync. Multi-colored lights scanned the pulsating blanket of the beings in search of someone not moving. The lights flashed and spun, chasing hips that were loosing momentum in this dance that blurred the line between feeling alive and allowing oneself to be dead to the world.
“This is new my thing. This is where I have been at lately” Layne yelled at me. People were starting to strip off their clothes ,while others sprayed water into the crowd from embellished tanks on plastic guns.
I moved with him, feeling more and more evil with every self indulging twaddle motion of my weightless arms. The air was overly humid and infused with sweat. All of us, packed together in this basement like sardines, moved together as one. I could feel the music transforming me into an abstract version of myself. As the lights glazed over me, up and down, right to left , and all around -I could feel my eyes transitioning from morbid blue to a drunk with envy green.
All of us were outcasts, out of sorts, out of our minds and some of us on the verge of being out of our bodies. It was a tragically fantastic place to be.
Layne and I circled the room, on the train of unwinding souls with no real destination. All of us just stuck in our places, like the repetitive pace of the blaring bass in the background. As people bobbed and swayed, someone from the outside could have described this place as hell on Earth. Drugs, alcohol and relishing in sin were all staple crops in this rhythm nation. The best part was not one person gave a damn as every-ones eyes were dilated with an oblivious craving to never loose the taste of this parallel universe.
Layne started to throw up blood on the floor , tipping his hat to himself while laughing away the pain in his stomach. The music was becoming louder as horns drilled into the stagnate drum beats that were now screwing the room. Nothing was stopping this party, this was happening before we entered and would continue on far after we left. Being sick here was not an option. I just kept spinning, moving faster and faster trying to create a dizzying blur that would allow me to ignore his illness and my own slow collapse.
