Bubbles swell up inside my throat like an angry whale lost in a cave 
I’ve become a five year old malchik shaking my legs impatient during the Russian ballet 
It’s only been five days, I’m afraid.

It’s not America that I desire, but the folks that can babble along with me. 
It’s always sweet, 
But I’m still alone when with the family. 
I can’t touch myself when my mother in in the same room, so I lay in my sweating bed, can’t even howl to the moon. 
The white nights are when the sun never dies. 
But this carcass baby has regained some form of life.

I’m doing better this time. 
I promise I’ll try to keep it. 
For it’s been my shoulder. 
On which you’ve been leanin’.

Bubbles swell up inside my throat 
Because it’s now the second act, and I need inebriation. 
It’s been hell on stormy boats. 
But I won’t retract the greedy conversations.

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