Americana

six days ago, I was a better person
and now I know I’m not, I
realize your flat “a’s” and the
words your lips make are probably
unique to the place I left,
and I want to cry, because
the hell do I know
why I’m here
or what I want from you
or anyone else for that matter,
I’m just drifting around
inside my own mind
it’s the 4th of July and nothing
reminds me of home
but these
insatiable, unstoppable,
inevitable lonely nights
and nothing can cure me.

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