word count

a collection of pieces; good, bad, and ugly

x: dead.

Everyone craves for something. My craves and addictions were deadly from the beginning. The riffs of the guitar, the soft liquid of alcohol, the clouded smoke of a cigarette, and the climax of a night in bed were all the right ingredients for a deadly drug and I wanted it all.

Even so, I never stopped. The high of it all seduced me into it's grasp, threatening to never let me go. The God of Death hovered over me, begging me to join him.

I did all I could to silence him.

My name is hide, and I am dead.