I enjoy my dirty bed,
my dirty dishes
disgusting floors.
Tumbleweeds of dust and insect groins.
I enjoy my unwashed hair
my smelly panties
my greasy skin.
Slowly but surely,
I' m morphing with the furniture,
the flea market of moist and shedded skin.
I become a couch, a lamp
a dead plant
Nothing at last- what a relief.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem