Once there was a clerk, a 7-eleven employee, a quiet, soft spoken, mild mannered man, a non-drinker; no alcoholic, no coffee, or stimulants, absent of drug involvement, a refugee, fired. “God loves you, God bless you,” his familiar greeting, frequently seen as a traveler through Bum Park, at the shelters along Falls Way. When I asked him how he was, he replied, “not well,” he said he was still homeless. Now overcome by the havocs of K2’s, analog of cannabis delta-9-THC, JWH-018. Entangled by the web of innocents, deception, and avarice. His innocent trust in people, the deception of the desperate and misguided, and avarice of the benefactors of ill-gotten gains, allegedly initiated by the transnational criminal community. Similar scenes occurring in Russia, the Ukraine, and London a long way from the compound synthesized at Clemson University by John Huffman, published as, “The
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He begins to fall backward, his right hand reluctantly releases its grip, he lethargically falls backward, billowing in the breeze, overcome under the weight of the drug. As if mismatched in a fight, a light weight, KO in the prime of life. He lay, petrified in time, not unlike the prehistoric Woolly Mammoth, found frozen in the Arctic sea. The paramedic a member from the teem attending another K2 consumer, after inadequate attempts to lift him to his feet, radios for another ambulance, he determines further medical care is required. It is apparent as he lay on his back, head raised, arms spread aside, legs slightly bent, spotlighted by the glare of flashing red and blue lights, he has become one of the latest victims. He is now in the ranks of the lost and addicted at Bum Park. His quest for survival is now his trap for addiction. Initiated into the vast covert, veiled, network of offenders and offenses, infectors and the infected looking for their next comrade, their companion to
He begins to fall backward, his right hand reluctantly releases its grip, he lethargically falls backward, billowing in the breeze, overcome under the weight of the drug. As if mismatched in a fight, a light weight, KO in the prime of life. He lay, petrified in time, not unlike the prehistoric Woolly Mammoth, found frozen in the Arctic sea. The paramedic a member from the teem attending another K2 consumer, after inadequate attempts to lift him to his feet, radios for another ambulance, he determines further medical care is required. It is apparent as he lay on his back, head raised, arms spread aside, legs slightly bent, spotlighted by the glare of flashing red and blue lights, he has become one of the latest victims. He is now in the ranks of the lost and addicted at Bum Park. His quest for survival is now his trap for addiction. Initiated into the vast covert, veiled, network of offenders and offenses, infectors and the infected looking for their next comrade, their companion to