I am on 4th street.
I'm on mother fucking 4th street,
and you are nowhere.
40 hours.
wait.
I wait.
like weight.
Tomorrow,
I'm dead,
but I am gonna eat eggs and cry.
I wake a souvenir,
made of paper and gloom;
you can buy me and us
at a bookstore.
but I am done,
because I hate everything
about this town
called tragedy.