J'aurai ta peau

Before you leave my little moving sun, allow me
To play with your scares until my conflicting desires bring
Me away.

Except the alcoholic mermaids singing into my head, take as a starting point
Your last words on the bathroom floor – pretend to have lose your fame
On the bars that proliferate in front of my door and on those that flourish
In my disappearing hands.

Teach me the art of the Nubian war, the one with red and brown and sex inside
I want to drink my enemies too.