At the edge of the table

I plead and pledge, save me! oh save me!

I'm out there at the edge , sharp as knife-edge.

Few inches from oblivion, like in front of a marksman

With loaded gun, a machine gun,

Filled with smoke, the room so hazy,

Ice cold and shivering, sweating profusely,

What lay beneath? Very dark and underneath?

A hand came from behind, shaky and shivery,

Clenched my body, tightly and unkindly,

He held me casually ,though not so stable,

Myself a glass of brandy, at the edge of the table.