Oh, stumbling on
The train. 
It’s that my body is drunken
As poorly as my brain. 
And as we teeter
From car to car,
I catch myself
Because I’m the dancing star.

I didn’t mean to 
Become vulnerable too quickly. 
It’s your glasses
That creaked when you kissed me.

I can see clearly
That I’m purely a ghost, still. 
As I travel from Finland to Russia
Consuming pretentious pills.

But I don’t want to rhyme anymore
I’m bound to my hometown. 
And the trees, 
They look so different. 
I want to play music so badly. 
I’ve been on the verge of a panic attack twice within three days. 
I think that drinking 
Could take it away. 
Sipping on Finnish vodka. 
Smooth and cold in a fancy little plastic cup. 
To ease my skull 
That keeps me corrupt.

I’ve forgotten the man that used his hand
When he felt that it was necessary to make me understand. 
Tha bodega men, they miss me, they’ve said. 
Without Rumpelstiltskin, I’d find myself dead.

My money flies when fur finds itself inside the same time. 
But I can rely on my mother to buy the wine. 
I need more vodka to retain this frame of mind. 
But cocaine follows me on the planes that I fly.

Can take my stash through security all that I want. 
But crossing Russian borders is where I ought to start. 
The eggy creepy crawls. 
I’m Snarkbottom until I fall.

I’ve got a weakness for being too open. 
But nothing matters if I’m vulnerably closed in. 
You think the mystery is dead. 
But there’s novels that lie underneath the bed.

Momma say that she got some chocolate. 
I say that I gotta get some vodka. 
We argue when to have the next round. 
And I laugh that babulia will smell it on us when we’re in town.

But momma grab my arm, she say “It will smell like family.”

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