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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


All the time, 

I am

Taipei, 2017

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