Black Gold

A liquid drug.

It pumps through my veins, a waterfall. Millions in a crowd during rush hour in Tokyo.

Every morning when I awake, the fog lingers, nerves excited, knowing the rush is soon to come. The black gold on my tongue says,
Now you’re ready.
Steady.
Slow.
Hot.
Sometimes it’s a slap in the face. Prepare yourself. Two doses and the sweat starts, and my mind runs.
My mind runs.
Let’s run.
We are ready.
Set.
Go.
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