throwing a ball into the air
it hits you in the ear
you vomit reasons
of colors brown and orange
is this new, is this real
the surge of electricity
stitch your indecisive temples
mend the broken stools
whisper the lakes
of befriending your affair
call in the sunsets and stars
it’s not my fault
we’ve come this far
for every dial-tone
to create a deep cut
across your yearning throat
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem