Trevor Jones lives in Southern California.
Denizens of the Opium
I knew a small group of opium users. I’d say
smokers but they administered
nasal drops and laid around the air-conditioned
claustro-dark apartments of Phoenix. They were
punks, looked the part etc.
One evening I paid a visit and partook.
My vision pixellated into black & white and
I freaked out, shoved my finger down
my throat. I left that party and went
to another drinking yellow beer to
check myself.
I saw the opium gang months later at
a bookstore I worked. They’d lost weight,
pale faces and sunken eyes. They looked
like shit. They themselves were pixellated and
in black & white now.
I always wonder what
happened to them after that, but I
think that was it. That was what had
happened to them in their lives.
