{ a gram a day... }

{ a gram a day... }

Highly dilated pupils wandered restlessly across the pages of a small print book from behind red wire-framed reading glasses with rectangle shaped lenses, squinting at every fiber the page held. He had to keep himself together, for if not he would fall under control of some exceptionally awesome MdMa.

Breath was heavy, his heart pumping overdrive, accelerating blood through his veins and causing small beads of sweat to collect at his tensed brow. His hands were quaking; they tremor so much that his troubled eyes could not focus fast enough to catch any readable words that the shaking book held.

Greenley%u2019s eyelids fluttered, nearly black eyes rolling back into his skull; his arm lowers until he drops the book and his lanky body slouches downward in his seat.

{Can you hear me....?}

For some reason his lungs were numb and un-working, his eyelids so heavy that opening his eyes was not an option. All his ears could do was feel vibrations of what could have been audio. He is out for a long time, and when he comes to, he finds himself in what seems to be a vast land of.... very well-kept grass?

=TOK=

Oh, the moon just flew over his head, followed by a very disturbed wheezing of a well-aged man, yelling for him to get off the 'course'.
Course%u2026? What the%u2026. His glasses were still on his face, which was a bonus. Greenley needed to learn not to take a gram of MdMa in one dosage. He mentally shakes his fist at himself... It tended to get so out of control he%u2019d black out and wake up in an odd place several hours later. Kind of like... now.

Slowly he stood, bones creaking with the pain of his well-known arthritis. His eyes settled on his feet. Green suede low-tops, check. He glances at his legs... Oh good. This time he still had his pants on. Dusting off the alleged camouflage shorts that fell below his knees, his ears twitched at the sound of the jingling from several chains against handcuffs and various amounts of metal and leather belts. His neon-bandaged fingers lifted the zipper a small amount on his black and green zip-up hoodie as he lifted his gaze and squinted at what appeared to be a sign, bringing his hand to the frame of his glasses, gently lift-and-setting them to adjust the quality of his vision.

There was quite a bit of detail he missed that the sign had to offer, but he got as much as %u2018G.O.L.F.%u2019 and that was really all he needed.
Greenley spat carelessly to the side and attuned his glasses further down the bridge of his nose so they were still there when he needed them, yet not bothersome enough to get in the way when he went to rub his eyes%u2014which he did a lot of.
Eyeliner was a bitch to re-apply.

%u201CArf. A bloody fuckin%u2019 golf course%u2026 what next... Guess I'm lucky it's not a dumpster or a serial rapist's squat....again.%u201D His black eyeliner from the night before still made its mark on his face, contrasting with his glowering green eyes and multiple neon barbells that mapped his pale and freckled face.

The front part of his hair was dyed black, straight as a board down over his right eye, the back of his hair shorter and feathered in small fluorescent yellow and neon green points in a forward motion.
Mmmm, fresh air%u2026 But before he got the chance to enjoy it, he loses his breath again. Choking on air; he brings his hands up to his neck and grasps it as if it would help.
Spots invade his vision and grow larger until he can%u2019t see, but it happens so fast, it took him a few moments to actually notice.
He hacks, and coughs until it feels like he had horked up broken glass and cut the lining of his esophagus. There was a puffer somewhere in his pocket that seemed impossible to reach.
The man is bent over, unable to fall to his knees as he wasn%u2019t quite sure where exactly his knees were.

At this moment, Greenley doesn%u2019t need his vision to know that everything was spinning.
Finally he collapses, and with his head lower than his heart, he unknowingly brings the blood back to his brain and regains his already poor vision.

As much as he tried to, he couldn%u2019t inhale even the smallest amount of air, until finally he lay on his back, and the air rushes through his lungs leaving him with the feeling of your first gasp of air after being tangled up by something under water.

He pants heavily for a few moments, just staring at the overcast sky, and once he no longer has the feeling of being near death, he blinks and gets a somewhat disturbed look on his face. Greenley reaches into his pocket and pulls out the puffer and uses it for what seems to be one hundred times before letting his hand fall to the field.

%u201CI hate you, ecstasy.%u201D He chews on the barbells that line his lips with a pouting look on his face.
It feels like years before he can sit up again, and even with as slow as he does, it feels like he did it at mach 2.

This man is perfectly comfortable where he sits, until he identifies the security guard coming his way with a less-than sympathetic look on his face.

%u201CWhoop, I%u2019m out!%u201D He stands as fast as he can, without rendering his joints useless for the next week and acknowledges the security guard with a nod, then he is on his way.
It's only a matter of seconds once he is off the property before he is plagued with narcolepsy once again.

{Can you hear me...?}

On his back, waking from another sleep, but it took a few moments for the grey spots to filter into objects. Not outside anymore. Greenley sits up, a bit too fast; for he has to tighten his eyes shut and lay back down so as to regain his balance.

When things cooled down, he could open his eyes again, carefully, one at a time.... And he then figured out his whereabouts. He was on the floor of his living room, next to the book he was spacing out on the night before.

"Arf...."

The man couldn%u2019t feel the glasses on his face, but when he turned his head on the left, he could see a blurred object that looked to be red. He clumsily reached for it, and brought the object closer to his eyes, he squinted and identified the glasses; he began to think%u2026

Funny%u2026 He tripped out for a moment, staring at the blurred distance.
At the golf course he could see at a distance with his reading glasses on. That was strange. Greenley sat up and made it to his feet, holding a lens of his glasses up to one of his eyes as he searched the side tables, he leaned in close and squinted intently, until finally he catches the familiarity of his black plastic-framed glasses. He puts them on his face, rectangle frames fitting on his face just millimeters away from his eyes, a much better and more expensive fit than his reading glasses that read the special 2.75 on the sides.

His black glasses did a good job of not looking so thick despite the strength of his prescription, and despite the extreme strength of it, they still limited him to simple tasks. Without them, he is beyond legally blind, everything just looking like shapes, and with his glasses on it looks as if everything had been washed over with a light coat of water; he still has to squint to make anything out properly and hasn%u2019t yet kicked the habit of rubbing his eyes.

%u201COne of those days again%u2026.%u201D He sighed and rubbed at one of his eyes with his fingers, pushing his glasses further down his nose. Without much else to say to himself, he headed towards the washroom to finish prepping for the day. He peered closely at the large-face digital clock to see the time, and it turned out to be 10:48 in the morning.

Greenley pushed his glasses further down his nose and reached for a small blue case, he opened it and pulled out a small object, where the tops twisted off and he could put his contact lenses in. The man worked at one, and then at the other.

It was hard to see in the end, eyes watering down his cheeks he adjusts his glasses and blinks until he is able to see a bit clearer. The contacts were prescribed for special days when Greenley%u2019s vision is especially bad, this day and the past week being that way.

Never in his mind has he ever admitted that this is the result of too many drugs and too many stupid things while ON drugs.

Greenley rushes himself towards the kitchen area.... Maybe he could get a meal in before this strange and recently common narcoleptic plague hit him again.

To Be Continued