Ultra Sonic Pellets (Tic-Tacs)

The compulsion to use cocaine was ‘all over me’ last night as I got paid at half past nine o’clock. It’s a very impatient wait hanging around for those funds to go in to Santander. I used to think it went in at midnight, so for years I was on tenterhooks with bated breath until then, without realising that it went in hours earlier. Trying to score at midnight can be a difficult ordeal, not impossible, but the chances of success are a lot more likeable at half nine.

Instead I took myself for two pints of beer in the local boozer and a pizza on the way home again. Early to bed like a sensible old man and early to rise for breakfast club at the drug rehab clinic, Change, Grow, Live. It’s still all over me at the moment tbh because I still have enough money in my pocket. I just know that it will deplete my funds big time and I can’t realistically afford it. This doe has to last me two weeks and if I score I’ll be brassic for the second one, being a sad and sorrowful foodbanker wanker. Nothing wrong with it, but it’s not the kind of good look for an original G such as myself. My loan application has been received and they said it will take them 21 days to make a decision. I’m hoping they do it in about ten.

I tried to do my mate a good turn over New Year by saying I’ll score for him. He wanted some coke because he hadn’t had it in ages. I made a few calls but kept getting fobbed off until we went into town and saw someone in person in a bar. I organised the deal and while we were waiting I had a mild panic attack. I just thought to myself, knowing that my mate was going to offer me some once he got it: What am I doing? So I took off out of there without saying a word while he was in the toilet and went home without paying attention to my usual firework routine. There’s nothing worse than being sat around in suspense waiting for drugs, especially if they’re not even for you.

That same guy used to be on crack cocaine and heroin. His arms used to lock up because he’d ruined all the veins in them. He resorted to shooting in his groin. He’s got holes in his legs. He said he used to spray blood all up the wall when he was doing it. A pretty bad addict in his day. Reckoned he spent £15,000 over a several month period. What made him stop and conquer his enslavement was when someone sold him salt and sugar for 200 notes. That woke him up. There’s nothing like being mugged off is there? I’ve thought the same myself in the coke game. I suspected they were ripping me off by giving me talcum powder. I didn’t know for sure or not until eventually in desperation for a high with no funds I bought some talcum powder and snorted a bit of it. I can tell you that it messes the brain up quite badly. It was impossible to visualise anything, all I could see were bright streaks and vivid flashes. My mind was like a malfunctioning graphic equalizer display. I understood then that even poor quality coke is nothing like the disaster that is snorting talcum powder. Never do it. I don’t think even Elizabeth Wurtzel, author of the masterpiece Prozac Nation, who at one point was snorting 40 crushed-up pills a day, would ever snort talcum powder. Got you beat there, Liz.

I went into a deep psychosis off it, as it mixed with other drugs in my system. I remember sitting in front of my radio and it kept firing thousands of invisible ultra-sonic pellets into my head. Imagine being pelted repeatedly with super-absorbent tic-tacs and you’re halfway there. They clog up the brain and steal all your thoughts away, making you into a zombie. Then some invisible guys showed up with stun guns which fired the pellets and helped themselves to a free-for-all with my noggin. I believed they were aiming for the very reptilian core of my brain, a special node with is only the size of a grain of rice. That would seem impossible to locate with a gun, no matter how supernatural or high-tech it was, but they riddled me with so many that I was certain they were going to find it. I ended up frozen in fear in my hallway, and I mean like frozen stiff rigid. All my energy was leaving me in a beautiful array of blue light and I had to concentrate ridiculously hard to retain just a smidgen of it. The energy was called Nuclear Fusion and so long as you have a bit of it you can make more and many other energies with it. You can imagine my dismay as the very last dregs of it escaped my aura and my psyche and I had to pray for just a droplet or globule of the stuff to remain with me, which it did, located in my leg for some reason. From there, and with it, after that brutal ordeal, I made more imaginary friends and characters to help me fight the evil stun gunners. I’ve had no problems with the radio ever since, but at one point those tic-tacs were being fired from the telly, the mirror, and even little holes in the wall. Now and again they go through your eyes and it even hurts a tiny bit. I thought it was the Chinese Government with tech suits on to make them in-vis and soundless. I kinda understand now that it was just spiritual attack from evil entities.

I enjoy writing about psychosis as hopefully a few very rare people can relate to it and it can tie in with their crazy testimonies as well. In our brotherhood of psychosis we all have mad unimaginable crap happening to us and it is a challenge to make some sound sense of them with the written word. Plus, in hindsight, hopefully it’s all a little fun too, about from being bewildering and frightening at the time of the events. Bombarded with tic-tacs lol.