So here's my proposition.   My hypothesis.  Burroughs says junk is not just a drug, but an alternative way of life.  So if you view my life as a journey from one tree branch (birth) to the next (death), perhaps my life is a dream spun of spiderwebs.  And junk is the connections on that spiderweb where one strand meets another, the connection that enables the whole gossamer prance to reach from one branch to the next.   Instead of walking from one tree to the next I have become the spiderweb stretched ever thinner across the void.

And they prescribe methadone to fix the problem!