Struggling to have some kind of a foreign exchange

Salt-flavored sour grapes taken with a grain apart from the wood cut the die cast the moment won't last but at least I'm attached to the heart of the beast with kicked in heels and breathing easier behind clenched teeth and broken smiles I'm struggling to have some kind of a foreign exchange through a wooden pail with a hollowed out hole in the hallowed halls of the preteen youth a pretensed tooth reminds me of something else I threw over my shoulder and walked out the door to find my shaken down bones from the rusted out apple tree someone else planted but it sent me a letter in 1993 addressed to no one has a grip like the cutting room floor and it turns out everywhere I go there's phones off the hook and coffee in cups but it's getting later than it was before before they started dying along the banks and just made deposits of calcium in the crooks of my eyes and when someone at last shoved their fist down my esophageal canal to pull out my stomach, only two words came to mind: "Thank you."