Come December I’ll make a fist
And submit to a stick
And pee in a cup
And chill in room 1
And get a glove up my butt
And be back in six months
And do it again
As long as I can,
Knowing full well
I might outlive myself,
My heart marking time
For the remnants of a mind,
As I loiter for months on end
In a semi-private bed
In an antiseptic purgatory.
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