Nobody.

You see. I am Nobody.

I am nobody every single time my breath runs faster and faster than my own stream of thoughts. I am nobody when my dysfunctional pair of hands touches velvet without really touching it, just because there’s marble and stones and tiny shells stuck between the joints of my fingers and my palms. I am nobody while I walk down the road, on teeth, children’s teeth, first teeth, damaged teeth and cavities with no tooth fairy around; just on hearts made from teeth, sharp enough to pierce your feet and penetrate the same joints you thought were metal solid. And I am nobody when I am able to hear the day coming, captured in its sky blue bubble and yet, I am nobody every time I forget and I am in pain and I walk away and abandon everything. I am nobody when your curls like snails fall on my breast, cover my breast and trail their sticky path on my skin and yet, I am nobody every single time I fall with a bang and you can hear me and yet I am nobody every single time I interpret the geometry of your body into curves and when I interpret your holy flower cravings on your holy wooden table into those immoral elements of my sex and YET

how many times I’ve wished to be somebody to think faster that I breathe- still underwater- and to touch velvet and to inhale all the dust all the tiny smithereens held for years in this dusky fabric and to be suddenly captured by the day while dreaming in my sleep and to remember and laugh and remain-where and how- and to interpret all words into feelings and certainly, certainly not into bodies and insects that crawl like snails –those snails again-

But I can’t because while crawling they leave their trace and dirt and life behind-and that’s why my soul and body are like a snail I suppose (or is it the armour I carry on my back)

And how I want to be somebody to sell my soul to beauty, just to have the privilege to write on my door “how beauty has torn me” and really mean it

And I would have some age and some name and some face and some scent and some chances to be someone and to be forgotten in some days in some utterly dull ways.