By William S. Burroughs

William S. Burroughs depicts the addict's existence: his hallucinations, his ghostly nocturnal wanderings, his unusual sexuality, and his starvation for the needle.

Introduction via Allen Ginsberg.

(It's unknown which version this is often - it's simply the intro, desk of contents, textual content, and glossary.)

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We know this Chinaman has some stuff stashed, and we try every way to make him tell us Where it is. We have him tied to a chair. I light matches" -- he made a gesture of lighting a match -- "and put them under his feet. He won't say nothing. I feel so sorry for that man. " He put his hands over his face and drew them down to indicate the flow of blood. "When I see that I turn sick at my stomach and I say, `Let's get out of here and leave the man alone. '" Louie was a shoplifter who had lost what nerve he ever had.

My legs ached and twitched so that any position was intolerable, and I moved from one side to the other, slashing about in my sweaty clothes. " Voices drift& back and forth. "Forty years! " At twelve that night, my old lady bailed me out and met me at the door with some goof balls. Goof balls help a little. Next day I was worse and could not get out of bed. So I stayed in bed taking nembies at intervals. At night, I would take two strips of benzedrine and go out to a bar where I sat right by the jukebox.

I could feel my face swelling. I sat down on the bed next to Herman. My fingers were puffed up double size. " "No," I said. My lips were numb like I'd been hit across the mouth. I had a terrific headache. I began to pace up and down the room, since I had a vague theory that if I got the circulation going the blood would carry away the codeine. After an hour I felt a little better and went to bed. Herman told me about a partner of his who passed out and turned blue after a shot of codeine. " I demanded.

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