I keep coming back to Burroughs, I don't know why. A friend (not a friend anymore) once told me it's because I was not a mature reader. I laugh off such suggestions; in the meantime, I eat cold pizza.
I remember the incessant pain
that froze the lymph in my glands
when the baneful words
seared my reeling brain...
I was a 30-year-old unemployed student.
Not so bad; not so bread, either.