I feel attacked. Like Iraq.
Everything we now do is to avoid Iraq.
I feel attacked. Iraq.
I want to destroy «Iraq». Attacked.
I don’t feel nothing anymore. My body floats. I believe Zoloft can help me. I think Social Anxiety Disorder exists. I need poetry to make me feel again. I feel attacked. I don’t want to face the State.
I think wars are not real. Therefore we should fight wars elsewhere.
My body is not real enough to fight. We should send the man, the troops, we shall support them in every step of the way. You should vote for George.
I believe nobody speaks here. Nobody there.
The bigger the clown, the bigger the support the clown gets.
Nobody here. Nobody there.
Just a language rat trap.
Bigger brother has arrived.
I’m not here. Pain or intellect help me escape.
Renewal is not an option for me. I’m not sick. No me psicologices. No sé porqué apareció el inglés. Creo que es una señal.
The girl is raped. When she wakes up she doesn’t remember who raped her. She talks to the man at her side. Asks for help. The girl falls asleep again. And when she wakes up she talks again with the man that always rapes her.
(This was the Benedetti myth).