Doing an approximate statistic
I did myself a 23,000 fixes
more than all heroin, but also morphine
cocaine, amphetamines and different medicines
and even mescaline, very little.

Or they were a lot more.

Every other day of those 21 years
I ate big quantities of opium
asphalted stomach, squeezed guts,
and gallons of methadone, govt’s industrial supply
robotized soul, cold heart,
and all kinds of tablets, and extasies
and even acids, a lot.

Unending days
when, with the luck always on my side,
to the apparent acceleration of time
given by the comforting opiates’ coma
I contrasted the unbearable slowing down
of smoking millions of joints, chillums and narghiles.

Emotions hidden postponed buried
reemerging to march zombified
in my dreams the violence the anxiety
in a hurry devouring the still time
biting a pitiless world.

While dreaming, at night, just
the very sound of this word: heroin
wakes me up, heart in the throat
a bunch of knots in the stomach
and I run to eat chocolate biscuits
sugar, in industrial supply dosage,
white sugar, brown sugar
sweetness dripping, comforting monster

and if the bees go on killing themselves?


Rodolfo de Matteis, Mexico 14th of Novembre 2013