there is something wrong with my
beliefs
perhaps my codes are rambled
again
my cards are in disarray and my
locks of hair are rising to the air
i look like an electrified hippie
i want to say i care for you and
even i love you but i just can't
there is a lump in my throat and
with my own hands using the mirror
of my car, i look at it, there is blood,
and there is a porcupine inside it,
wanting to come out, but it can't
entangled like a hook in the gills of
a fluffy fish, poisoned and dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem