I reread Burroughs when I get like that. From Wild Boys, in the chapter "Dead Child":
I held out my hands no more power left in them head against a tree it was cold on my eyes moon that night solid I could touch almost couldn't get the leg was broken and teeth tore past the bones at me begging for help pictures all cut up knife had fallen I lay there my pieces moved and shifted against a tree I spit up from my stomach green when day came and mist steamed up to the top of the high tree just under the leaves at the top and looking down I could see my body lying there the leg all twisted and the face caved in lips drawn back showing teeth I could see and hear but I couldn't talk without a throat without a tongue sun moon and stars on the face down there worms in the leg weeds growing through the bones.
I held out my hands no more power left in them head against a tree it was cold on my eyes moon that night solid I could touch almost couldn't get the leg was broken and teeth tore past the bones at me begging for help pictures all cut up knife had fallen I lay there my pieces moved and shifted against a tree I spit up from my stomach green when day came and mist steamed up to the top of the high tree just under the leaves at the top and looking down I could see my body lying there the leg all twisted and the face caved in lips drawn back showing teeth I could see and hear but I couldn't talk without a throat without a tongue sun moon and stars on the face down there worms in the leg weeds growing through the bones.