Michael Salem on meth addicts

Meth has been on my Do Not F**k With list for as long as I can remember, and every time I see people like Martin, I remember every single reason why. Heavy circles swallow his eyes like deep, dark sinkholes while the hollowness of his cheekbones devours the rest of his expression. The skin on his face has the unhealthy sheen of cheap shoe leather. His teeth are rotting Swiss cheese. The rest of his mug isn't far off.
Methheads are second only to needle-freaks when it comes to reminding me of all the dead bodies I've ever seen. If those corpses could have manic episodes, you wouldn't be able to tell the difference.
As soon as I see his wide, darting eyes and his ferreting, fidgeting body language, I have to fight the urge to palm my face on the spot. I've caught him at the worst possible time. Getting a coherent image out of his head while he's this fucked up is an irritating experience even at the best of times.