Window Pain

Sitting here drunk and stoned, listening to Hank Williams III sing about not taking trips on acid in Muskogee, I think to myself, When was the last goddamned time I tripped on acid?
Have I outgrown the drug? My drug of choice, except for the fact that I can't find the shit anywhere south of New York City, which is 50 fucking miles away. I think that maybe everyone in my age group has settled down with the hardcore stuff. So I ask every kid I run into under 18 years old if they got any acid. I work my way from the front to the back of concert venues, asking every low life degenerate I see, "Got any acid?" I hang out outside head shops, asking stoners the same question. And all I get is the same bullshit answer I'm not looking for. Some shit variation on, "Nah man, I don't know where you can get that."
For crying out loud, what's the world come to when a hard working man can't get any godforsaken acid? I remember about four years ago when I was getting the shit by the vial full, and from a fine little piece of ass at that. When and if anybody every asked me if I had any acid, I gave them a shit-eating grin, reached into my pocket, and told their punk asses to stick their tongue out. That's right. Easy as that, no questions asked.
Now I realize that most people won't sell acid to strangers, but I never sold it. I just gave the shit away. Thinking about it now, I might have made my stash last longer had I not been so generous with it, but I just wanted everyone to experience the same joy of life I was experiencing. Why in the fuck won't someone let me experience the wonder with them?
The things I have seen and done on the good LSD I can't remember so well. But the fact that I lose all sense of reality and think even more psychotic than normally gives me a warm fuzzy feeling deep inside that I can't get enough of. Forget the penalties if you're caught with the shit. My plan was always to pour all the acid inside my Binaca bottle into my mouth if the fuzz was ever close enough to busting me. Then I would finally be at the mercy of the Acid Gods, which is where the hell I strive to be anyway.
So as I continue my search for the perfect trip I will continue to poison myself with weed and alcohol until I find the person who is going to scratch my itch for hallucinogens.