IS DESOLATE AND LONELY
JUST LIKE BACK HOME
I AM
SICK AND STARVING
WHICH MAKES ME REAL
I CAN NOT SPEAK
THE LANGUAGE
THOUGH IVE
KNOWN
LONG AGO
ITS IRRELEVANT
LAST NIGHT
A GIRL FROM CATALONIA
UNDRESSED HERSELF
IN FRONT OF ME
THIS MORNING
I AM PUKING OUT
MY DINNER
OF NERVES AND WHISKEY
THIS IS NOT A POEM
THIS IS NOT POETRY
--A LETTER TO MAMA
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