Portrait of an Alcoholic II: John
*John is not Kinzoku. He is a fictional and narrative construction. He may resemble Kinzoku, but his exploits are his own.
Part 2
John has taken his first little white pill and he feels on top of the world. He blinks and is transported into a world where the music floats alongside him. He is with his best friend, they are in each-others arms, they are smiling.
On the deck they sit in laughter.
The music is taking them towards the clouds one verse at a time.
Words may be passing by but neither can truly hold onto them. It is a magical time.
-
Suddenly they are running together, running as fast as they can down a dark country road. He has never seen his friend like this...
John feels fear, real fear, ripping through his chest. He is alone here in the dark...trying as hard as he can to follow along...
Where the hell were they going?
-
Then blood. The fall. Terror. The wildness of his friends eyes, like a beast...like someone else..
-
They are back home, tears, screaming, things turning bad....he is in the corner. His friend is towering above.
Glass covers the floor.
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It is the next day. No-one has slept. John is wearing his leather jacket. The one that makes him feel like he doesn't give a sh*t about the world.
The car is speeding along the highway.
They are hitting the town. This is the life he dreamed of. A life where he was IN. The night, the girls, the lights, this was how ....
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They are in the club. It is John's first time.
He doesn't remember the fight. Lighting up. The glasses breaking. The fists...
He does remember crying, crying and screaming, alone on the street.
How quickly the night turns on one. How quickly pity dries up.
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The last memory he has...
He is on the roof of a 30 story building. He is looking down, swaying...they are calling for him to step back. He is laughing. And then....