we get drunk and then say we’re posthumans

it sounds like later we’ll

fuck so hard that all electric appliances in the apartment

start working again

and all the lights turn on, on their own

it’s good that there’s comfort still

I can’t even tell you how much I stopped loving

these sweaty people

their alcohol tears

at home the flower is waiting for me to water it

it stands on the window and subverts

my constant desire

to drop dead

if you see it don’t tell it what made its leaves turn

yellow (the truth is

but a flesh wound)

there could hardly be a living being as tolerant

to the merciless way of showing

affection, look

away when you see me

again, don’t

search for what isn’t there

Translated by Tomislav Kuzmanović

napijemo se pa govorimo da smo postljudi

zvuči kao da ćemo se kasnije

jebati tako da prorade svi mali kućanski

aparati u stanu

i upale se svjetla, sama od sebe

dobro da još postoji utjeha

ne mogu ti ni reći koliko sam prestala voljeti

ove znojne ljude

njihov alkoholni plač

kod kuće čeka cvijet da ga zalijem

stoji na prozoru i subverzira

moju neprestanu želju

da crknem

ako ga vidiš nemoj mu reći zbog čega mu je požutjelo

lišće (istina je

samo površinska rana)

teško da još postoji živo biće toliko tolerantno

za nemilosrdan način pokazivanja

nježnosti, okreni glavu

u stranu kad me ponovo

vidiš, nemoj

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