oh teita, the language the english no it understand tongue of you. and no can i
i feed you these the morsels from mouth of me. language of me the arabic half-
chewed. oh teita, let me i try and i fail to fit languages of us in each other.
seen i face of you split open by riot laughter. the spit it falls without grace from
lips of you thins. complexion of you light; skin of you wrinkled but healthy;
flecks olive they try to jump from folds of the corners of the eyes of you. can i
find in the mirror eyelids of you the heavy. eyelashes of you. the echo of the
nose of you. sometimes, i split open face of me with spoon, tool blunt &
wrong. i want from you for you to bleed from in me into the sink, so that can i i
ask these the questions sprinkled you in lungs of me. i cough out them, always
in the time the wrong. i laugh. soil of the grave falls it without grace from lips
of me.
