kik it

alright yous. this is it. i am kikin it. i am in the middle of detoxification. you are comin with me. so get on your galoshes, smudge your sage crags, and hang on your chest some power encrusted talisman, cuz this human frame is subjecting itself to the hells of chemical science.

methadone. ive been chomping little cute pills for a year. i have a ruptured disc in my back, and pills saved my job. i'm a frickin school teacher for the love of God!!! but family doctor chem richardson assured me, "a diabetic takes insulin, a manic takes antidepressants, an englishman takes his tea at the noon hour, and you my friend, swallow methadone."

how did i get here? i had major rushes of nerve pain down my back, networking down the nerve tributaries of my legs, and making me feel as if i wanted to die. i take a couple little betties, and walla: dove coos and daisy chains, aaahhhhh, pain free, love and rainbow colored horses, yes. i don't remember feelin bad at all, do you? life is lovely, and i think i actually feel better than when i felt better. pills, good. pain, bad. can you hand me acouple more betties, i think i feel a spat of pain comin on?

i went from clean old reliable (rather attractive and stoic) billy jean turtlecolor (my name has been changed to protect the guilty), to pill-dependent hard working does-what-he-has-to getting through the day billy, to methadone addicted self-serving pill-popping bloated son of biotch.

now im going to go back to clean and sexy-like because 51% of my psyche voted it in. Oh yes, its fully democratic, and holy shit was that a historic day in the life of I. over half of meself was quite sure of going clean, and ive been beating off the other 49% with sticks and knives. the civil war of my mind might have been shrouded in some historic hue, some glorious warrior nobleisms, some chivalrous proclamation, perhaps even some fine maiden jumping in the story in chapter twelve, if it weren't for the constipating, cramping, sweating, vomiting, shaking, feverish worms of withdrawal!!

right now i can't sleep! i feel as if i am in a coffin, my legs have this anxiety driven madness to them.......a closterphobic incantation. ahhh! my fucking legs!!! oh, it hurts, i can't take it anymore...........

okay legs, stop that shit, your fine, your fine, its just that those betties did a number on you, and you miss them. well, actually you miss the quantity of them. my legs have no rational sense, they stare at me for a bit, and then go back to torturing me mind. "here mind, im sending up eight hundred and forty two pain sensations. the first three hundred would kill a small goat, and the next five hundred and forty will make you cry for your mommy's sweet little sympathies."

pills are great aren't they? i still am eating them, just smaller portions. hey billy, please take smaller portions, and don't forget to pray before your meal. ive never prayed so much in me life betty.........i have never called on all of gods as i have now, over and over, God, gods, spirits, the earl of sandwich, anybody with a helping hand or a fine condiment ridden slab of protein. and not one, but all came! and they all entered me body, and now the gods are all in my legs beating the shit out of each other. and the earl of sandwich is stuck halfway down my ass, and i know this because i haven't sheet in three days. oh , lord, what will become of me?

so, whose with me? together we shall triumph over the world of chemical. now that we know what part of us is chemical, we go deeper.

kikin it
turtlecolor