You know if I ever relapsed on anything it is likely to be ecstasy.  After nearly 14 years of abstinence I am hankering the oblivion of an overwhelming high.

The sinking, bubbling rush of great e.   Sinking into the warmth, the clock ticking,

The moment when we are connected to the men and women around me moving as one, abandoning my individuality, my sense of self for us.   The vanishing point, the music throbbing, the sweat flowing.  I have already stowed anything valuable elsewhere:  my watch and wallet.  I don’t want to have to worry about anything.  I catch the eye of a beautiful boy on the dance floor, he is glistening too.   We find each other and I can smell him, taste his lips.  My jeans tighten around my legs and groin.

The music elevates us, I know him more perfectly at that moment than I have ever known anyone.   There is a moment of silence, just a beat but the silence becomes interminable.  I can hear my lungs fill with air, his lips open, I can see his teeth.  His black hair stuck in thick bangs over his white skin, his blue eyes looking at me.  Focused on me.

All through my twenties I took drugs recreationally.  Always at weekends, with friends all over London and New York.  The finding and buying and taking of the little pill.   I am the first one on the dance floor.  There are a thousand gay men around me and it is so fucking gorgeous, so fucking glamorous.  I am slim and agile, my arms are long and muscular, my hands are behind my head then they are up in the air above me playing in the light.  I know how delicious I look.  Passed from one man to another, passed from the arms of one man to another.  Kissing the ones I want, briefly.  Kissing the men I want as the music slows and panting, filling my head with the thoughts of the men dancing around me.

Drugs gave me so much more than a human could ever give me.  For a few moments I am granted a reprieve.  No thought, no care, nothing.  Just me and the moment.