If you only knew
how I love my dirty cheek.
Stained by minor abominations.
Harassment of human beings
as a misanthropic form of entertainment.
One dirty tongue
makes sludgy words,
spreading them among the same.
Oh,
how I love when I hear
something new about myself.
Never from the same people,
always from others,
among the same.
How I love that filth,
when I inspire by my appearance
the ones who inspire me.
I love my dirty cheek.
“She is…”
All their identities
stop at three full stops.
But I stand in all of that
they think they know.
Oh, how I love being the Word.
Just two words.
A bunch of rodents,
chew my name and surname,
boasting that I am their bone.
