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