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my spine
becomes
a wet rope,

leaving my torso
to the friction
of gravity and
the contours
of the
basement
couch.

every breath
is stretched,

an
elongated
echo -

cool as
lake effect snow
and deep
down into
my shins,

each emptying
of the lungs
a suicide -

denaturing
the years
until
i forget
the weight
of knowing.
why heroin