A mangled Phantom, my face on the left a
scrunched mess & left ear a wildly exploding
with sensations exquisite in their indefinable
effect of disconcerting itchiness, seems like
a big balloon deployed inside my ear moving
hearing aside & only the itchiness remains
It's a low-level, unstable infection, rising and
sinking just keeping out of sight - now that I
have described the little menace to myself,
fear is gone & I become happy and content,
satisfied with my infection hoping it will bring
me more opportunity to interact with others
Leading away from the ancient cheques and
old balance states I have to translate - it's a
satisfying job but leaves room for dreaming
of meeting interesting people and going to
new places offering exciting new faces…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem