sore

William S Burroughs and Allen Ginsberg, 1953

Extract from William S Burroughs - Letters 1945-59:

[June 16, 1954

Tangier]

Dear Allen, 

   There is an end-of-the-world feeling in Tangiers, with its glut of nylon shirts, Swiss watches, Scotch and sex and opiates sold across the counter. Something sinister in complex laissez faire. And the new police chief up there on the hill accumulating dossiers. I suspect him of unspeakable fetishistic practices with his files. 

   When the druggist sells me my daily box of Eukodol ampules he smirks like I had picked up the bait to a trap. The whole town is a trap and one day it will close. Not snap shut but close slowly. We will see it closing, but there will be no escape,  no place to go.

   Allen, I never had a habit like this before. Shooting every two hours. Maybe it is the Eukodol, which is semisynthetic. Trust the Germans to concoct some really evil shit. It acts direct on nerve centers. This stufff is more like coke than morphine. A shot of Eukodol hits the head first with a rush of pleasure. Ten minutes later you want another shot. Between shots you are just killing time. I can't control this stuff any more than I can control the use of coke. Morphine controls itself, like eating. When you are loaded on M. you don't want another shot any more than you want to eat on a full stomach. 

   From taking so many shots I have an open sore where I can slide the needle right into a vein. The sore stays open like a red, festering mouth, swollen and obscene [...]