The Early Deaths

The names of my boyhood circle of freinds divide in half. Half found success in various fields, myself included, but I always had one foot firmly in the other camp. To walk off would have been disloyal. A crime lower than which one can not go. Bar murder, rape. Loyalty was all we had, no money, no security. I blame no one. Before heroin we smoked cannabis, took LSD, mushrooms then speed came. Followed by needles. My phobia broken by a spell in Hazelton mediacl reseaerch unit where nurses took blood samples crudely, each twenty minutes, from the same vein hole. Surely I could be more hygienic than this. The jump from snorting to IV is so great, so superior, it is like another experience altogether. I still feel a touch of yearning thinking about it now, 29 years on. But the honeymoon period of drug taking was over. A darkness spread. Consiousness expansion gave way to sensation. And then the control of ones emotional nature.
. This other half are dead. First the deaths came from depression and drug led suicide. Wid, who was like a younger brother, easily depressed, over prescribed thick, heavy benzos, green eggs to sleep, temazepam, and for daytime, diazepem, blue 10mg valiums. His alcoholism never warranted this atom bomb cure. His doctor once said,  " they're just numbers to me Paul, just numbers."
When I heard he was dead I barely believed it. So many times had i dragged him from veneer thick depressions. He'd met an older woman. An early junky, before the flood of strong brown afghany heroin had taken the city by storm. He cut his wrists and bled his life away in to a bathroom cabinet. I believe a childhood freind found him.
Further afield, Animal who had been an older brother to me. Wreckless and full of life and speed on motorcycles had gone on holiday to share some sunny days. Took out a puny 125 went headlong into a french vehicle on the wrong side of the road.
There were earlier deaths. Freinds more perfifreal to my circuit. Woody, a lad from school, red faced and smiling in punk leathers had motorcycles and crashed. John bell house, only a few days in Kent, master off his 250cc had bought a 500. The same day he followed a more experienced moto guzzi, slipped and smashed his head in to an embankment post.
Richard began buying small bags of heroin off rufus, a boyhood freind. From here the deaths realy took off. First Win, a diabetic, supposedly just on speed died at Richards. Running for help, deranged in the street. Mystery smoked in heroin surrounded his death.
Martin, my best buddy for several years at school had landed a job. To celebrate he bought a fivers worth from Richard, no doubt a generous ammount, was told just do half. Speed had broken any needle fear and most were progressing from the psychosis of amphetamines to the soft opiate. He took his second half and Richard found him slumped over in his kitchen.
Turps, expelled from Amsterdam a month ago had become a face on leeds begging scene. A youth two years my senior who alcohol altered severely. Staying in St George's crypt, a homeless haven, took a hit at 38 and died. We grew up less than 100 paces away.
Scores of faces, acquaintances died. Before I met Claire whose best freind and shadow went over whilst drunk. Folk more concerned in disposing of the needle than saving her.
Richard, my best freind. My island to land at in leeds. I'd spent ten months witnessing his deterioration and a love for a girl unconcerned with nothing but his gear. First beaten and broken. Finally drunk and overdosed, saturated in methadone. If this was t suicide it was close.
I could go on but I too fell for heroin. It took two freinds I respected following the path to make it acceptable, plus curiosity. Still I only had heroin holidays, protected by being contact free in frome. Till a Saturday morning, I bumped in to a freind. An accent familiar in a strange land. I had connections. I continued. I hit a point where I knew escape was still possible but uncomfortable, yet I abandoned myself, in full knowledge full on dependence was close. Then one morning I woke up ill. I was addicted. Nothing would be the same again.