Prose flow from my Amphetamine highs,
the product is under revision to sharpen it tight.
Standing at 4 a.m. with papers in my hand and my back upright,
from the depths of my mind strikes unfathomable self-criticism as I cringe, oh, what a night!
A harrowing nausea overtakes me - the call of my muse,
the ideas are abrasive and I want them all but my unsteady hand must refuse.
Finally the realization comes to me an espousal of truth,
I haven't the slightest idea how to write but I sure can abuse.
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