bite my teeth
you've got melodies in your joints
pick my nails
you've got tv screens in your eyes
everyday i cross my heart,
hope to die.
sticking 800 needles
in my eyes.
quiet my voice
you've got seasons in your mouth
pull in my knees
you've got a blade on your tongue
twist my hair
you've got a mirror in your cavities
worry my hands
you've got choirs in your ears
everyday i cross my heart,
hope to die.
sticking 800 needles
in my eyes.
steady your tone
i've got noise in my brain
empty your smile
i've got hollows in my heart
you spoke a lie.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem