If you can find it, I think you might find the short story, Tenth of December. I feel almost shameful in saying this writing was moving and beautiful, because I don't know if it is right to call such saddness and daily concern beautiful. It sounds lik you are very close to this man. I am glad he has you, as he sits there in his piss stained bed. http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2011/10/31/tenth-of-december

Ah, the melody ... The sad story, the repetition...

I, like this. I can just read it... I don't know how many times till I become dizzy but the first time, the story just slipped through my mind and while I did not pay much attention to the content, the flow of the poem made me like it along with the rhythm.

Wonderfully rhymed and a great rhythm, great story too! The repetition here is addictive. I like it very much!