*The work seen below is part of a manuscript of a conceptual work based on the writing of Thomas De Quincey (Confessions of and English Opium Eater, 1821), and seeks to draw out a new way of looking at this famous piece on addiction writing.

 

 

The late Duke of Norfolk used to say, “Next Friday, by the blessing of heaven, I purpose to be drunk;”

              no
ideas
too much, as that
    it is
           to
            the interlude,
as to confess, is
by supposition of laughter committed to debauch
me
   like manner I
   used to be called
by the one
       seldom heard spoken. For the music
       of all
around all around a little, as
       I
did afterwards,
       for the one
who
heard.
  In
them. In the Opera, I could
communicate with
   that—
this
             is

               confession,
is
    not acceptable to confess, is
too
much of the sensual pleasure you understand incarnated one that every
       was to the true intellectual, that clamorous
         grandeur from all around an action,
recalled by an act of
             memory
       a
passing the
       laudanum, have ventured for the
     Opera pleasure
a succession of musical sounds like a collection of Arabic characters; I can attach no ideas to them

 

 

 

The dream commenced with a music which now I often heard in dreams

 

                    opening parting, was conducting, was come
                of inexpiable fugitive. I, as than
           everberated—every movement),
had the power, and lighty
day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a
day—a
day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a
day—a
   day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a
          day—a day—a
day—a day—a day—a day—a
        day—a day—a day—a day—a
                day—a
         day—a
day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a
          day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a
       day—a day—a day—a day—a
day—a
day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a
       day—a day—a day—a day—a day—a
day—a day—a
day—a

of the trepidation and the
     power, and yet
  the
   power, and
        agony, was
     commenced whether from
my
sympathy was lost,
          with which my sympathy
      was commenced
which,
like a great
        drama
     or piece of
      music which now I
    often heart-breaking
     of the power, and its place, its
place, its
place,
       its place, its place, its place, its
place, its place, its place,
its place, its place,
             its place, its
      place, its
place, its
         place, its
       place, its place,
its
     place, its place, its place, its
           place, its place,
  its
      place,
  its
place, its place, its

place, its
place, its
place, its place, its
place, its place, its
place, its
And I awoke in struggles, and cried aloud—“I will sleep no more.”

    in struggles,
       and
cried aloud—“I will sleep no more.”ed aloud—“I will sleep no more.”es, and cried
     aloud—“I will sleep no
more.” ill sleep no
            more.” and cried aloud—“I will
        sleep
        no more.” awoke in struggles,
          and
cried aloud—“I will
sleep
     no more.” struggles, and cried aloud—“I
   will sleep no more.” p no
more.” d—“I
will sleep no more.” struggles, and
     cried aloud—“I will sleep no more.” struggles, and cried
      aloud—“I
       will sleep no more.” awoke in struggles, and cried aloud—“I will sleep no
           more.” “I will
sleep no more.” sleep no
more.” sleep no
           more.” no more

 

 

Helmüt Garrett was born in Landstuhl, Germany. He earned his B.A. in English at Miami University in Oxford, Ohio and his M.F.A. in Creative Writing at Goddard College in Plainfield, Vermont. Some of his work has appeared in small publications including The Andromedae Review, projectagentorange, and Lions-On-Line Literary Magazine, and some of his lyrics were winners in their category for the 2006 Unisong International Songwriting competition. He currently lives in Bogota, Colombia where he teaches high school English.