The best advice I’ve received
is that I tend to argue with people
who don’t exist, at least, that’s
the advice I’ve received… I think.
I worried once of hearing voices when
my mother spoke to me.
So, I wouldn’t call them voices, I just
think… it’s a good metaphor… for
when information tells… I think.
If I tell you, would you believe me,
that I ran to the lands of perfected dams
because God punishes with floods
the powers that be, the powers that kill the
creativity and the creators who claim
paranoia is a natural feeling?
When I told you, did you believe me,
because it cuts me in two, to
balance mine with your world too, to
explain what I’m expected to, to
see my language frightens you?
What is a metaphor, really?
How could one define it, logically?
The most confused soul once told me
the most beautiful thing
in her mother tongue, schizophrenese,
that grass is tall
and men are tall,
that’s enough about me