Chronicles of a Dallas Dope Monkey

       The purple tinted evening of the Dallas horizon is all I have when I am dope sick. In the midst of opiate withdrawals I can never seem to reach God, but all that I need is a grain of hope. I am thru w that shit, again, for the hundreth time! As I start to reach the last limb of the withdrawal train, my God given sense of purpose slowly derives from this clarity in measured time, and when I say , "measured time," it really means I have to acquire the virtue of patience... which doesnt develop easy for me.  I actually live in a suburb north of Ft. Worth, Keller, TX. I am 28,  and I am not only a junkie, but seem to have become the cliche of a junky. I have seen friends die, o.d., and go to prison. The world knows as I know how taboo heroin is and I wish I had never tried this sick magic of a simple injection. I have gone every route... methadone clinics and then the world discovered suboxone to give heroin addicts. I am going to chronicle some short stories that stem from my youth, when the devil had full grasp of me. I have been on felony heroin probation and completed five yrs.,   and failed two drug tests but they kept giving me more chances. I am like night and day. When I am sober and calm w no bitch excuse to bail on God and my family to go shoot a dark ass shot of that monkey water! When I am strung out I contradict everything that I am and believe in my sobriety.  Now, I string along as much sobriety until given an excuse, at least I have hope in using my past experiences to give me continued strength in my faith. These stories aren't about heroin solely but the route that led me to that.