Zywa
My everywhere
Between yellow walls the people are talking
about me, they walk around me
sit and watch
A child asks mama what is
with that woman? I'm lying
in the museum
my bloodfull lips waiting
for kissing eyes and heart-
warm hands as much
as may fit on my skin
everywhere
my anywhere
but nobody dares to
come close, with all the witnesses
who have bought a ticket
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