I am… obssesed to say the least. I could say I am in love but that does nothing to express this need. I must get high, or else I am not me. A mentality that still rears its head to this day. I need to feel okay, unsickly, good even. But no longer can I indulge in negativity. A gumbo of daily substances I inhaled, snorted, and ate, to become sane has been substituted for this medium of plastic paints. Almost as indulging from the aroma of spraypaint, the drying of chemicals in a horribly vented room… all the while smoking a shit ton of weed to hold me over until I die. This substitute shall work for the foreseeable future. And I actually enjoy expressing myself, they say its positive but I feel I still am fighting towards that goal without much progress.

I have fallen in love with the fumes, the waiting and staring at paint to dry, the chemicals and additives mixing with my weed smoke. Its…

"My Personal Brand of Heroin"
3ft x 4ftx1.5"
August 2021
Ready To Hang