Work in progress.. I wish I could have one idea at a time, instead of thousands within thousands within...

Just a little tighter. The veins didn't stand out like they used to, too many had collapsed, and he hadn't been eating well. He pulled on the belt with his teeth to cinch it in snug. There you are, he thought picking up the dirty syringe. Flick flick Flick. Don't waste any. A dark thrill of anticipation shivered through him, his body light and tense, his back hurt, but not for long. Soon the pain would be gone. A ragged laugh. Seems to hurt more and more, real life. Don't think about that now. A shaking hand presses the point of the needle, cold against the balloon of his vein, scratching slightly. Calm down, don't fuck it up. A slow steady pressure, and it slides right in like a razor cut, the stinging discomfort of something alien in your body. Pull out. Pull out.. slowly. The blood leaving his arm always made him feel weak in the marrow of his bones, a dull ache he loved to hate. Now push in, slowly, don't fuck up! momentary panic made him push too hard, mouth opening and closing, clenching his teeth so hard they grind. Warm, oh God it's so warm. Untie the arm quickly. Oh God, there it is. A shuddering gasp escapes his mouth as he feels it building in his muscles, back arched and aching as he feels the sudden surge like a lightening roller-coaster down his spine. So intense, a moan escapes his lips, an involuntary intake of breath as he falls back, needle dangling at a wicked angle. A dark smear of blood staining his too-pale skin. Waves of ecstasy pulse through him. Gasping air, his breath made sickly sweet. His legs draw up as his elbows press into his stomach, hands indrawn talons. Too much. Heart racing as his eyelids flutter, mouth working uselessly as a gurgle escapes him. Spasms pull his back tight, awkwardly twisting his body. Hands clenching, cutting ragged half-moons in his palms. Too much. The needle tearing violently out of his arm, blood oozing, a dark ichor. The thin metal bending under him, then snapping, a steel shard, like an angry thorn cutting deeper into him. The plastic deforming as he twitches, back arching off the ground. A cold sheen of sweat breaking out on his pallid skin.
Help me, help me, oh God, mother, please, help me. A tear bleeds from the corner of his eye, wetting his ear as cold sweat soaks him. The carpet burning into his flesh as he twists, writhing, heals kicking into the ground unfelt. Oh, please, please. Eyes unfocused staring at nothing, pupils gaping open, light stabbing in.