Overdose Inertia of a warm day: the lassitude that comes of prior opiates and robs my veins of meaningful blood, or posons with perilous narcotics. Falling over a desk, trying to stay awake when to sleep means death. Overdose. Nothing left but the whim of survival. Consciousnes dedmands vigilence, the courage of a beaconing lightship on the wide Sargasso Sea. Drifting unintelligibly through afternoon, across the day's almost endless expanses, wishing for the cool shore of dusk. Becalmed now on Coleridge's painted sea in Rimbaud's drunken boat. High like de Quincey or Vasco I set a course for the Pillars of Hercules, meaning to sail over the edge of the world.

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