Rip appart your ribs
Surrender to the divine
Bite your upper lip
My blood is your next wine
Drink the purple juice
Tie your fucking noose
That’s a game you’ll lose
Drink the purple juice

You belong to me
You belong to me
You belong to me
You belong to me

I feel the dagger to the spine

[switch]

It's not a room, it's a basement, maybe some sort of old military place where, you know, people come to buy, sell and take drugs.
The most important part of this place is the C room. It's a place where people pay to get some heroin or some meth. and then they can shoot it off in a large room where there are, I guess, 2 or 3 tripsitters.
Many people die there, since the heroin sometimes isn't the purest, there once was some krokodile, I think. Some overdose, some kill themselves, and some just... They just... Die...

The dead people do not get a proper burial, they don't even get to be thrown in a river. The members of the C room just throw the corpses in a gigantic room. It stinks, it's a dark, almost never lit place where corpses rot. A gigantic pile of human bodies, all filled with larvas, worms and just a soup of organs liquified by time. It's a terrifying sight. I once looked at it with lights on. There were bodies with green, purple, red and grey smudges splattered around, incomplete limbs rotting and being eaten by flies and worms. So much rats and so much bones. Dried blood on the floor and a smell that's impossible to describe.
However their faces were what got me the most. Just a frightning expression of inevitable dread and uncontrollable sadness and calmness. When I saw that, I was just waiting for my turn in the C room which I had been sleeping next to in the exchange of trying to tripsit twice a week. When I saw that, I was going ot take another shot of heroin. When I saw that, I flashed. I flashed on the floor. I flashed everywhere, disgusted, terrified, depressed, suicidal and trying not to die from a panic attack. Then I turned back, went next to the C room, having not been able to even feel fresh air for weeks. I got the heroin, shot it into my veins like nothing happened and nearly died in a bad trip.

I knew, just right after getting out of this trip, that I needed to quit.

I locked myself in a room for 2 weeks. "The hard way" as they call it. People fed me little to nothing, gave me something to drink but I was just locked, in a constantly lit room. Voices yelling in my head, stronger and stronger. Always screaming, I was crying, my skin was white and filled with holes. Just like a turkey. A cold turkey. I was completely broken. I still have nightmares of this experience, I often wake up in the middle of the night, shaking, shaking, shaking, shaking, SHAKING. Just shaking and crying and hearing voices screaming at me, telling me satanic stuff and then I cry and cry and scream and eventually get up to take something to ease me. Weed, alcohol or ecstasy.

I don't know how I could live without this shit.

A few days after I left. Messages I was getting almost everytime stopped being sent. Everything stopped. I turned on the news, and watched with disbelief something that destroyed me. The entire basement was burning and nothing would ever be found inside except burnt people.
Nothing will ever be known about the people who took drugs here. People will just be dumbfounded when they will found dozens of corpses buried in the ground, all lying there, with smiles on their faces, a smile that was left out just because it was the last thing a body could tell to us about this shit we had just lived : the last thing our body could do. It was to smile, smile at this absolutely absurd comedy. We just couldn't stop but laugh at this complete and utter failure our lives had become

Just
a
gigantic
failure

I wish someone had escaped the fire