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Margarida Vale de Gato
184
Mutilation
If on the outside I do not appear hollow within
rotten in the center I am.
Not wanting to pass myself off as a modernist there are
moments
when I test the lucid perception
quase materialista e táctil
almost materialist and tactile
of advancing madness
I am that superimposed film
overexposed,
hurried calculation of the aperture
then the panic and insomnia, I am split.
Only writing relieves me a little
and at times released me;
now it is more a cut
on the skin that acts to prevent
what pulses more violently in the head
and compulsively in this way drains
but does not dry never staunches only displaces.
And how much of this is not founded on the suspicion
that thus I am becoming a worse person?