Confessions of an EBay opium addict
Looking for drugs on the cheap, a writer found poppy pods available on the Web. He also found himself hooked.
By Peter Thompson
Columbus Day almost killed me.
I woke up avalanched under a junkyard of pain, my body a trap of torn nerves and trashed organs. An oily rash of sweat had soaked through my pillow and into the mattress. I was coughing, confused and crazy with anger. A throbbing, deep-pink chemical sunburn covered my face; my bowels were spitting hot mercury. I slid out of bed and dropped to the floor, the weight of a snarling mountain gorilla bearing down on me. I saw myself in the mirror as I fell. I looked puffy.
<SNIP>
...I panicked. The fear was intense. My toes wiggled around and got stuck in a cigarette hole in the bottom sheet of the motel bed. Did I drink too much? This was the high-water mark. I scratched my itches. Chasing. Always chasing. But this time I wasn’t catching anything. I was caught. I made more tea. Used more pods than ever before. I was trying to blast off somewhere.
A few hours later, I had drunk the salt of 200 pods but only felt a kind of necessary doom. I got out of bed and looked in the mirror to make sure I was still there. I looked like that mug shot of Nick Nolte, my hair up in the air, pasted in place by sweat and spilled drink. Tiny poppy seeds were stuck to my shirt. They were everywhere. In the bed. Under my feet. On the floor.
http://www.newsreview.com/sacramento/Content?oid=34614--------------------------
I'll admit I've been playing around with this - but after reading this article I'm a bit scared to do this again...