You ever see a crack pipe fired up and burning in a car window in the middle of the night, way too bright and way too constant, burning the fingertips as the pipe is held? Coarse lips from sucking the thick unresolved smoke through a Brillo pad filter, hungry eyes clinging to the memory of the last high and feeling the waves of expectation met as the first, second and third draws race through the blood stream reaching the head. There is no one else that matters at this moment, the thing you want most is close at hand although it is dangerous and eats away at you night and day, you will do whatever it takes to be one with it, and only a fool would get in your way.
I felt that way about sex.
I felt that way about sex.
