No more scoring
Only scorn and outpourings
Sweating, scalded in the corner
Greedy guts, little Jack Horner
I couldn’t get enough, stuffed
Then cold turkey without warning
Coughing up brown sludge all morning
My entire life isn’t even a smudge
It doesn’t even show up
Pushing, doing enough, but no budge
Words are swarming
My darkened doorway
Evil couplets my forte.
Alchemisland 
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