The Fever Of My Body

Please,

Say you hate me,

Tell me you do not love me

So I can spend the whole night crying

While I read the funeral verses

Of poet Augusto dos Anjos.

I like drama,

I need drama,

I breathe the drama,

I am the drama,

Give me drama,

I like to suffer,

If I was born masochist

What can I do?

Please

Do not save your insults against me!

Please do not say you love me,

I need this drama!

Say you think I'm strange,

Abnormal and unbearably dramatic!

Please,

Say I'm ugly and unloved!

Please,

Call me sick, crazy, immature, neurotic,

Poor underdeveloped Latin - American underdeveloped girl!

Please scold me,

For that I do not live

Without at least one drama per day

With right of tears of blood

And syphilitic thoughts in Miami!

My body burns with fever,

Yearning for drama,

Your sufferings and vain prayers.

My convulsed soul

Wishing ecstatic that you tell me

That you prefer other women.

Please,

Do not worry about me,

I do not want a cure!

I want that my illness

To mix with your illness.

I want all the viruses and microorganisms

Deteriorate my organs:

Bladder, kidney, heart,

Stomach,ovaries and lungs!

I feel intensely

The pain and burning

Of cuts of surgeries

That are made in me,

And I wanna to hear the doctor tell me this:

"You'll spend your whole life

On the operating table

Feeling my cold scalpel

Cut your skin tearing their cysts,

And the chill of the anesthetic needle

Being stuck in his dorsal spine. "

I want to be buried alive

And scream feeling

My body dies in agony.

Is there any law in this world

Forbidding me to be happy

Even in the face of suffering?

But even that was a law

I would not obey it, I wanna smile sadly

And weep for joy!

Please,

Read

Each verse of this sick poetry!

Do not worry,

I'm very comfortable

And fully used

To seeing the men that I loved and love

In their pictures with their romantic lovers,

(Oh, their beloved wives!)

I love being tortured

With these hilarious images:

Photo does not mean anything to me!

I crave:

Say you hate me,

Say that you don't love me,

I need this drama!

Say you think I'm strange,

Unbearably dramatic,

Ugly and unloved!

Mix your illness with my illness

To never to there be cure,

I want to feel the painful spasms of this torture;

So I can spend the whole night crying

While I read the funeral verses

Of poet Augusto dos Anjos.