Wednesday, March 23, 2016



I've never had a job
where I could not go to Paris, have a serene day, and get married
where writing a poem was like committing suicide at the sight of your large penis
where you’ve said it yourself: I am not what I am or what I'm not
where literature is lived rather than studied and the word "subject-matter" is                 synonymous of "mystery"
where every aggression is a man looking for a flag
where there’s no difference between the ordinary and extraordinary sexual encounters on the beach of existence
where announcing me dumb at birth was actually a blessing, I stood by it for so many years that it started to feel like my soul

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