Before the supple clouds bubbled down the ichor
And as cats and dogs, I think you say, now they pour;
I had collected with my padlocked eyes a sky,
Strangled to electrocute, jerky with foams discharged,
Screaming in mute.
When I seemed to you that I was normal as per signs,
Like I passed through, a carwash or some falling tines;
I could hear a noise for which I owe you a pie,
To explain that it's rain, both out and in my bed,
Worth the vain.
I know nothing about the crumbs that spill as you feed,
Or the perilous bites, or the howls, oryour bleed;
I have seen perhaps the little one who stands by,
Who pops up and whose fun, as a bloated body in a sea,
Magnetically shuns.
I just know you annoy me when you bring in a coke,
A silly tin, or a stabbed juice box in the bin, to our talk,
That you allege I had emptied before the fry;
That it's me there strait, laundering with pee and pants,
Rotating straight;
That my normality keeps ticking from 150 to 250 volt,
Nonexistence exists, from 1 to 20 seconds, then to a halt;
Penumbra of the senses draws ghost to petrify,
Memories reduced to cyst, bigger than me still to grant
Freedom in a fist.
As the sky crafts a rivulet of curios down the window pane,
To my heart, onto the puncture in my bladder, to my brain,
I don't antique to match them but only sigh;
I can see them watch and I know they are there only,
Raining to parch.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem