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Replying to a comment on:
Ohio's Dirty Natives (Free verse) by Fear of Garbage
High heels with jeans.
A white smear on the lower lip, you come in,
Wiping it.
We are coming off like geniuses enveloped in buildings,
Like Vasser kids living in urban decay.
Bath towels for carpet.
This is my life.
They say they say they say
I shouldn't expect anything more, it's ohio
And you get to eat corn hearts stamped with beef blood.
You are still here, are, i will never leave.
How can I,
This is my home.
There is a tunnel of ashes up in my hair
And it comes from the sky, it always
Operates with the same deafening mechanical hum.
I am a machine of grey that rises in the thin air,
Operating running humming on vegetable hearts.
The air screams, rips, I am a newlywed.
I am a newlywed!! but I am am only 17.
I will never never move.
You cannot touch me.
How can I make my tendons bend?
I am so old.
I am so so old.
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