By-Two Kaapi in an oilfield

The chit lay somewhere on the table.
Amidst a pile of newspapers, magazines and dust.
He rummaged through them to find the chit.
Scribbled was a 10-digit number.
Frantically, he punched them in his cell phone.
The voice on the other end said a hollow 'Hello'.
It was a female voice.
'I need Acid' he said.
'Sorry, We've run out of it'.
'I've got the money. Give it to me.'
'Dude! We don't have any'
'Fuck you! I need it.I've got the fucking money'
'Fuck you too'.
And he heard the tone of a hung-up phone.
This was the only place where he could get acid.
He needed acid.
Needed it badly.
His stomach churned with pain.
His head reeled, vision blurred.
The thought of not getting it - he couldn't digest it.


Addiction is beautiful. When you get what you want, you are on an unimaginable high. Something that you dont ever want to come down from. At the darker moments, when you don't get it, the pain is equally bad. I presume though, that the pain is worse. A pain that can ruin your life so badly that you will feel like taking it off.

Addiction makes you a damned invalid. Coz at the end, you are just leading a fucking painful life. Why does one want to feel pain everyday just for those two hours of ecstasy? Maybe we lack the will - the will - to conquer the senses.