What's Royal About A Junkie?

Cover Design by Kasey Hill

Nothing. But he thinks there is. At least for a while. 

When you're high on meth and heroin and whatever else while you're out there, and the only rules are:

1. Defend yourself.

2. Stay on your hustle.

3. Show respect to the block.

You feel like royalty.

Never mind if/that you're having a schizophrenic break, that bullshit doesn't matter. What matters is you know everyone else lives a life where they have to do what they're told while you, royal addict, flit about as a bohemian with no one who can't kick your ass or throw you in jail able to tell you diddly squat. The world is your playground. You can go wherever you want, and do whatever you please. 

Of course that's total bullshit. What good is total freedom when you have fuck all to do with it or show for it? You have to make your own stuff to do all the time, and when the steel fish aren't biting and your pockets are empty, there's a lot of just staring and shaking (among other things) at the pylons going on. You dehydrate and malnourish yourself and don't know it until 6 months go by and you look in the mirror and cry at your bloody mummy--oh!

99% of everyone hates you down to your very mitochondria. There's also that. 

I have not said much about Ben for reasons that ought to be obvious. But Ben, during the writing of this, not only became his own man--he taught me a million things about myself and made me a better, more human person. He gave me a chance to honor, immortalize (I trust), and bring to light the men and women who share my lot and shaped my life with theirs. 

I think you'll wind up loving him like I do--if you hate him, well, you were supposed to.

I knew I was going to write Prince Junkie maybe 3 months before I got out. My concern was to take my brave readers through the rings of true hell, not some firey place run by a goat with an icicle for a cock but the desperate place of drugs, hustle, and blood where people when they get there, they rarely get out... and if they do they come back to earth batshit insane. My second was to show the junkies who read it a few this that might not be occurring to them in their current practice. Homeless junkies are truly in hell, yet we feel like some kind of prince. Perhaps people, if enough read this book, will stop looking upon the mainliners of the world like they ought to just fucking be executed. Perhaps the mainliners will also stop feeling that way about themselves. During the whole writing process I'm hell bent to spread awareness. Naive because I have no reach. Bold because I know what happens is what you make happen with work and the quantum spin.

The last reason I wrote this?

To keep the horror from being meaningless. Because that matters too.

I hope you all enjoy the hell out of it. 

You can grab it right here on Godless. 

P.S. See that beastly cover? Kasey Hill also formatted this beastly Doestoevsky-On-Heroin book for me. Honored! If you need a cover done,  $75 bucks (*cheap!*) is the straight up deal.