ALEXZIPEROVICH.

And it went on like that for several minutes.

I scratched NeVER AGaiN on the tank wall in the county jail.

I scratched Blood in, Blood out in Francois on my bicep above the river styx.

I have embraced Christ, Allah, and the Israelites.

Hello. Goodbye.

Please tell me that it’s over.

I’ve given everything. I intend to give more.

The fucking cigarette count is 1.

Life ain’t right.

I can’t help it.

This is how I feel about my life.

I love you and you and you and you.

I’m trying so hard to love my damn self.

Let me go.

Release me.

Release me, God.

Release me where you see fit, just somewhere I can also fit in.

Because fitting in the wrong places has always been particularly special to me.

Not no more.

My mind grew an inch after a few hematoma head injurious delicates.

I’m trying to resurrect myself like Lazarus.

But my name is Alex.

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