Friday night. Unmistakeably friday night, I gather this by the influx of suicidal thoughts now filling my brain to exploding point. If I snapped, would anybody even notice? the xanax and valium litter my bedroom floor like the empty 7.62mm shells of an AK-47. I'm torn between two clear objectives. The first, should I kill myself? and the second, what is there left to get wasted on?

An eighth bottle of stolichnaya eyes me down like a drunken whore at a shady sex club. I know it's been watered down beyond the capacity to even provide me with a buzz, my own doing in countless moments of denial. Shit, i'm out of fucking tobacco; If i can't make it to the supermarket before 10pm i'll surely be reduced to smoking nutmeg. Then from the side of my eye, i catch a gimpse of my saviour.

The extracted codeine sits on the kitchen bench, overflowing from the amateur filtration setup I used. Surely 30 pills was enough, but i've swallowed so many in the past. Would my past come back to haunt me? or could I finally achieve a high, good enough to at least get me through this night. Or at the very least, the horrible friday night television; myself being reduced to watching 'Riding in Cars with Boys'. Drew Barrymore's nasal tone haunts me like a 2nd grade teachers scathing remarks about my handwriting. What I would give to kill and fuck Drew Barrymore's lifeless body, not even worth its own weight in meat, blood and shit.

Friday fucking night. It soon dawns on me that tommorrow will be the weekend, my most hated two days of the week. Soon I shall awake to the screams of elated children and their parents, lawns being mowed; and other such trivialities being carried out by the heaving masses of hetero-pig swineage. Their aura's are positively charged sesspools, yearning to impose upon my disposition. Desperate to deprive me of the one thing that gets me through the days; silence.

...

My house is surrounded by little shits on trampolines, screaming, "MUM! WATCH THIS!!" as I take a drag of a Marlboro red. If only I were smoking marijuana...

hey guys, i am also kr-ing it up on a friday night.. but im not feeling very poetic

The kettle takes too long to boil, so I put four heaped teaspoons of Nescafe into a mug and use the hot tap to fill it with water. It's the closest I'll ever get to cocaine.
The 32 Nurofen plus I extracted codeine from the night before had no effect.
Everyone is so tight-arsed with their marijuana and I can't get my hands on even one spliff. Tell me what to do, someone. Tell me how the fuck I am going to survive another weekend of the same boring shit.

Come shmoke a spliffo with me........ Sorry can't be fucked continuing the gay story.