No brakes.
For me, the entire point was always to get as scrambled as I possibly could. Black out insanity full throttle overload. The chaos was the point and the madness of it was the goal. Destination oblivion all ahead go. I loved the drink and I loved the chemicals that helped me continue well past the finish line. It was a true feast of self destruction and I was all in for the entire buffet. The running joke was that I had dual accelerators and no brakes. Mine was a disease of more. More narcotics, more women, more chaos more gas on the fire. I would drink in order to go drink. Throw pills on top of powders and poke holes in myself to get there faster. I was never able to understand why anyone would ever wanna "drink in moderation". What a fucking bore that would be! Some burn the candle at both ends but I just threw the entire thing on the fire. Burn it all down every night. Worry about the casualties later. And I was a selfish monster as well, I was gonna do all yours before I ever let on that I had any of my own. Cleaning out purses and medicine cabinets along the way to go short my dealers on the promise of payment tomorrow. There was no honor among thieves when I was at the table. Funny part was, I was dealing myself and tending bar at the same time and still couldn't keep the financials together for my swollen habits. It started to get dark. I realized that I couldn't stop now even if I wanted to.