Marginal Insight
I know that I may drown
Beneath the addict’s gown
The kind I wear
It warms despair
Descent, decline: sun-down
A needle fills the gape
A most peculiar shape
Of flesh and bones
And memory moans
To hang or stretch: I drape
What is this shapeless storm
The gape? My human form
But still I fill
My void with swill
A choice, a right: my norm
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