Poisoned Apple: The Weeping Man

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What else can I say? I cry black teardrops. Fake tears, a hustler’s tears through years and years of drug addiction here in New Orleans. The Big Sleazy, I mean, the Big Easy. This is what I dislike about myself to this very day. My past. All the lying to loved ones, cheating, stealing, in and out of different prisons. Learning and teaching myself how to jose (do time) like a real career criminal. The lifestyle has tattooed itself across my brain after twenty-one years of being a junkie. One point in my life a long time ago, I was a good kid. Played sports, had lots of good friends, came from a prominent, upscale family. Then, a big bad wolf came into my life, a child molester which we delve into when the story unfolds about what happened that truly messed me up as a child. This may have been the start of the downward trajectory I chose in life, and my bottom is what drug addiction has done to me. Turned me into a hustler, a cheat, a liar, a criminal.