but i'm born for this flight, united 955 on the fifth of july. back to the s over y. i join the dark side in a thin disguise on consumer grade video at night.
faking suicide for applause in the foodcourt of malls and cursing racing horses on tiered steps. playing the wall at the singles bingo, all time gringo. did anyone hear me cry there, through a toilet stall divider. i swear i care, raw.
am i an example of a calculated birth to a star chart for clowns? i'm not. under robin eggs in a nest, you hit a manila envelope with one last little robin's egg in it.
a hollow bullet yet spent, subject to dismissal. i wish all my pitfalls could be called my miscalls.
cherie-a, cherie-e, cherie-i, cherie-o, cherie-u.
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