The backyard a dump, just like my mind, spent
a day without my pre-frontal brain, with only
the reptilian base still functioning - chemical
contamination rendering me insane, first I was
shocked on discovering that my words were
utterly bad - though my colleague explained
she could see how hard I worked to convey
a bad original text in a readable way, feeling
better did not help to solve my crocodilian
pain - Arabic offered respite - but the allergy
took everything and the little alien living
inside my head could not calm down again
crying inside I surfed through the day, trying
to ride every wave; crashing and smashing
into the obstacles; the sad, empty feeling never
left and meaningless, cold and alone, playing
clown, crooning meaningless songs, uttering
platitudes; I bumbled on - my best friend is
gone and no matter how hard I tried, my heart
would not heal and the crocodile could not
recover from shock - I mentioned my pain
about the backyard dump to my little girl -
she threatened to leave if I uttered another
word - by now the crocodile is gone, one
thing left: the little alien dead in my head
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem