short,
stolen moments,
i write, have placed so much weight
like baggage
of emotions in my mind
too heavy, i do not dare
lifting it with my own
fuckin' finger
but i am a very hardheaded
humanoid,
always forgetting, from now,
then hence, and then
tomorrow,
and missing what i had stolen
i turn back and begin again,
as though
nothing happened
i kiss a black spider and shall die
a hundred deaths
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem