I make notes of you
I make them
to remember
why I hate you
and why I hate myself
I make notes of you
I make them all
to remember myself
to stay away from you
and from the city
that took my soul
I make notes of you
when I start to complain
about life
when I need to remember
what real pain feels like
I make notes of you
as an echo, a residual force
that pushed me to write
tormented
for almost two years
I make notes of you
because it's your birthday tomorrow
and you are far and
I don't have enough heart
to call you
I make notes of you because
I don't want to be noticed
(by you)
anymore
I make notes of you because
notes don't take as much time
or feeling
and don't need names
because you were cruel to me once
and I promised to become a savage too
because I feel it's time
I shed the skin you kissed and touched,
the dreams you know
because it's a shame to keep
religion, television, internet,
dreaming, sleeping, writing,
being angry, being imperfect
and all the other f...... things
that destroy me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem