My chest used to be dried up past the point of the shriveled butt hole apricots that you find in the grocery store I like the ones that I had in Russia the best, and so I can't buy the ones here anymore.
I'm too scared to get the wrong ones, and I wont eat them.
They just it there and rot.
But who cares, I should just spend three dollars to find out if I really want to find the right ones.
But my chest was made out of power like dust.
Like ashes of a cigarette.
Like the carcass of once living tobacco plants that were soaked up and dried with chemicals so that ya keep wantin' them I want them I always got them like when I'm leaning against the wall thinking about she told me you were going to that bar to see a girl I was wondering it mustn't be me it must have been another girl.
I ran away from my cab because I was so drunk that he couldn't understand my accent, and I thought if I swallowed the toxic world whole, I could get myself to kiss you.
I'm made out of butter now with this saturated pair of breasts I carry over dense skin holding this new Voodoo aspect I think I call a soul.
And I was apprehensive and guilty because I slept with a boy that you know on the roof the night before, and my whole entire body looks like I was abused.
But I walked home smiling like damn I finally did the deed it was done unto me I deserve that, and I won't ever take that back.
But it's the fact that I don't care I never care about the minimal boys who I entangle myself in I'm invincible did you hear that I AM INVINCIBLE.
But I'm made out of butter I'll repeat that until I stutter and words turns into only something that I slip on because I hate the way I keep feeling I'm in class what is the teacher even saying am I going to make out with that boy again is he mad like all the others because I said I can't go home with you, I'm not sorry.

I can't sleep because I won't eat, so I lay myself in the bath tub with as many candles as I need to remind myself to breathe, and I listen to this one creepy song that's nine minutes long on repeat because she keeps screaming I don't belong here, and I keep thinking about how I'm so confused that my life ended up living on the east side of Manhattan when I used to go to the river and drink all the Natty Ice that the homeless men would give me to mix with the weed and cocaine I used to be in a relationship with running away from thirty year olds telling me they'll give me the opium that they grow in their backyards if I run around naked while the others tell me they're sorry that everyone wants her because I'm the fat one, don't worry, I'm still pretty.
Help me forget so that I can believe that I can walk in East Village like I belong and like I'm going to be a rich photographer like I should be.
I'm too much and too loud as I overtake people in the night listen to me please listen to everything I say because I wasn't allowed to talk for so long I'm just happy that I'm allowed to live my life outside of walls now I'm freaking out I'll never calm down I'm alive I'm alive I'm sorry I'm embarrassed.

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