One month from a year
Under a thousand veils of lies, I hide my despair
Growing thorns at my elbows
Arm my scared body with lard
Inside my own house of matrix bones and loyal heartbeats
Of serving cells and alien subjects in my bloodstreams
My majestic chateau glides through Goutte d’Or
No one has been allowed to come through the black forest of hair
No one has been allowed to come through my black forest of hair
Patch me boroboro, blind the
fear that was spooked into my marrow
Baptize me in semen, leave me
forgetful as you reopen my hymen
When dead merlot grapes have tranquillized me with their departing poison
When small sparkly holes in the sky decide tonight is the chosen
Come for me!
Cum with me!
Paris, 2018
I don’t like bouquet flowers
cut from their roots
already dead
for us to glance at their last bloom
Oslo, 2019
Carefully combed, even a little bronzed
Dashed in eau rose, waxed and lotioned
Almost totally prepared
Ajj do these feelings need to be shared
Dilated pupils, biting my tongue
Feeling about fourteen years young
Another lover in the shade of blonde,
Is that all you want, nothing beyond
Amsterdam, 2020
Sometimes you see my grey blue eyes
Sometimes they turn black and you think it's a disguise
Sometimes my bangs are too short
Sometimes you don’t notice because you are the one in need of support
Sometimes I’m a heavy move from the wrong side of the bed
Sometimes I’m mild and you listen to all of what goes on inside my head
Sometimes I’m more knowledgeable than you knew
Sometimes I have absolutely no clue
Sometimes you wish I was
Sometimes you wish I wasn’t
but
All the time,
I am
Taipei, 2017