i bite off the poem
as if is a dry and black bread
my gums are bleeding
like i’m gulping rocks
nevertheless i don’t give up
hunger is piercing my stomach

i bite off the poem
as if is a rotten apple
i like especially the pips
they have the bitterish taste of dreaming
nevertheless at the same time
i’m also swallowing insidious worms
which nestle in my memory

i bite off the poem
as if is the flesh of a god
pulling off tearing up with my teeth
now and then i belch and hiccup
when i’m overwhelmed
by a metaphysical drunkenness
i seem to be satisfied

help yourself
if you’re hungry