my two bodies thrown against the sky, one deleted of sins, one sinful, one deleted, one in full youth, it’s this doubleness that makes me furious, yes, the door can’t be opened both ways, you are either in or out. I hold the door locked with my hands. I did use my mother’s nail polish. she will look at me with one eye, the other one closed. it’s this doubleness I hate. why can’t I be one for all of you, including me.
I always ask myself which of the two bodies I like most. I say that one, with my mouth half-opened, while the other half stands closed, stubbornly. at birth the priest tied my mouth on that side. but does that body like me. the two bodies do not know as I speak too slow, feebly the words refuse to come out of my mouth. I use thoughts instead of words.
but thoughts cannot be heard.
two bodies thrown against the earth. gods tricked me into pulling them down, like wallpapers. but I still like the other body, not this one, the one you have given me. its architecture is the symmetry of love.
thoughts cannot be heard.
still – volcano – body. I have seen this body differently.