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  • Writer's pictureCounty Lines

Here We Go Again…

Its 5.11am. I always make sure I’m awake at this hour now because I’ve heard thats when the police do drug raids…and after 5 months I am praying relentlessly for such a thing to happen. Yes, I must be the first person in the country thats HOPING my home gets raided.

The thing is, I thought I was free! The gang disbanded and buggered off to jail/the gutter/had gone on the run due to being in debt with the boss/started working for another dealer. But the boss was still firmly glued to my side. So I had the ingenious idea to create as much fictional bullshit as possible in an effort to get him so wary, paranoid and nervous that he’d get caught by the police, to make him WANT to fuck off HIMSELF.

Remember I have had no choices, options, freedom, decisions, views, opinions or control from the beginning. Asking, demanding, begging and pleading for them to go has NOT been successful.

Anyway, just as he gets to the point of being so far away he’s becoming a blurry figure in the distance and the overwhelming joy is so intense I start to question the point of my drug habit (why am I forking out to synthetically create the feelings which I’m currently experiencing naturally without class-a’s in my system). He’s BACK.

I open the door to boss man informing me that the 2 violent criminals standing behind him are his new workers and he came to introduce them to me.


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