Do not pity the addict — life simplified to nullify fear of dying.
Fantasies of flying, ecstatic skies dressed in silk-soft cloud
better to be sought than mere shrouds to deify lost faith in
human kindness, in mythology of romantic love, in heretical
heroics or epiphanies of peace.

Do not spite with words or deeds to mollify some social creed.
Do not expect to enact a cure in legality or morality, nor
gratitude for uplifting heathen from their street of shame into
degradation by naming their retreat an effect of poison,
denying the deadening preceding.

If treason must be decried at seeing crumbling of
overridden lives, respect need be paid — true attention
to lies so urgently held dear that when
bleeding cracks appear, torn by desperate scratching for relief 
from sins by belief unsalved —  respect for the seeking of
the Source in medication.

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