i wanna puke
there's too much poetry for me.
my mouth won't close
i broke my crooked fronts on
scratching through the light boxing me.
i don't wanna cry but i am.
when's the last time i stood outside and waved until someone was gone?
i'm a floppy person
i guess i screech.
the floor is altered completely by one pillow.
why will no one stick her hand in my hair regularly?
i'll never try too hard to know.
in heaven
you get to choose your fatigue for a living.
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