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THE HARD BREAD To drain sleeplessness to the very last drop. / To flee with wide open arms into the open field. / To know the anguish from which my poems spring. / To tear off my dress with sorrow but not tears. / To gnaw on the hard bread of others' selfishness. / To drown in the chaos that floods me from within. / To flee the drama that every day is offered to me. / To fasten the lovelessness with a collar of burnt sugar. / To pierce my pin cushions with rusted needles. / To shred the hours that press down my temples. / To sink little by little with this borne weight. // To await the moment in which bitterness explodes.
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