There is a strange girl in my body // Les poèmes de Camille
by Camille Pellicer
There is a strange girl in my body,
It’s not me, I swear, twirling around my gentle neck,
Brisk and discreet
She whispers to my ear
Alas my dear, it’s too late to disappear
I am alone and perplex with this strange alien in me
Is she a guest or a hateful enemy?
I shall stay still, I shall be patient but what will happen to me?
There is a strange girl in my body,
I catch her staring at me
She commands the savage angels to collect my tears
Savours my pain and feasts on my fears
Flaunting her flesh to the celestial sphere
She wants my trust, my permission, she wants my blessing, my submission
That is not love as love is no possession, love is no condition, love is no violation
One must allow the lamentations of the profound self to achieve success in my inmost consciousness
There is a strange girl in my body,
It’s not me I swear,
Tell her to stop torturing me,
I surrender with her, I become her, I let go in all her perfections, in all her imperfections
My little blue dress is blaming me,
Why on earth would you abandon me?
It is heartbreaking really, what if I am not ready?
She gathers the depth, the strength, the darkness, the sweet violence, singing the songs of the reckless lovers who speak of ecstasy beyond my obscene fantasies and candid animosity
Love be revive with sublimity and exaltation behind that mask that I can no longer carry
Her beating heart slowly intoxicates me, something new has entered in me, shy perplexity, naive bestiality, still, pure debauchery
There is a strange girl in my body,
Her sweetness gently tickles my throat, my chest, my breast, down my stomach, I find her roaring in my wombs as I come with a taste exploding in my mouth like a fine fruit filling my tongue, gorging my mouth with a suave pure sensation of my own self. And she burns, she burns and burns so vividly that I cannot touch her scorching flesh anymore, she is on fire even in the midst of ice, rubbing her spirit against my Lolita lips
Those who hide their little secrets shamefully, confuse devil immorality with divine energy
The sweetest flesh of the rotten flower, the putrid smile on the decaying beauty, the ingenue memory of who I was and who I could be
As all lovely things, she will soon have an ending
Who do you want to be? She asks me
A wife, a spouse, a tender lady lover, a beautiful bride, a dark sweet sugar?
No. Can I be a gypsy, can I be a dandy, a dashing hard candy? Harmonic mean submerged in gasoline, please, please for my sweet sixteen, can I be libertine, can I be the Queen ?
Who would love a fool, a lovely pretty fool, a disguised demoiselle behind a gentle veil, a whore perhaps?
There is a strange girl in my body
SUICIDEFM #4:
