Theres a drive inside of me,
A drive toward nothing in particular--
but all the same it exists,
although I am not sure what lays stagnant inside me.
I want to be active,
but I do not know with what,
I want to love,
but I do not who.
Words have been taken from me,
more predominantly than the cigarettes I keep smoking.
I feel as if my ability to communicate
is slowly dwindling away..
I am becoming more and more lethargic,
stumpy, oh no, American.
I am becoming a damn classic "American."
Oh Lord no!
I can't take being American!
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