Polystyrene

Into a polystyrene container on a bench
You threw up all the bile you were trying not to vent
Held onto iron railings and the history they wrought
They drew up from the vial and they stuck it in your heart

They put you on a table in a basement cold and bare
They confiscate your contraband and cut off all your hair
The crack across the ceiling, failing plaster black with mould
No prospect you'll be leaving 'til your body's grey and cold



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