Friday, June 14, 2024

Poems Written Inside a Coffin by Ivan de Monbrison

why need to know anything in the end
it makes it so much more painful…
– but the girl is already dead
so it does not matter
like hanging wet clothes on a rainbow made of sharp claws
– I can't tell you this…
– I am scared too in the dark so I sleep with the lamp on all night even if I am not a kid anymore …
it does not matter
– why?
because me I like to smell my anus


apprehension of desire
scarcely met
– I need to cut off your fingers one by one with my teeth, or your dick, your choice…
[no text here]
– once I was raped by a group of men after class…
I can't remember if I ever told you this
– it was no reason to slap me
– I was drunk…
– I know I always pay for what other men did to you in the past
– I am sorry


there is a third dimension somehow to all this but I can't precisely tell you what it is all about
– I saw a specter in your bathroom in Marseille, so I just can't go back there
– me I like to watch tiny birds chirping on the bare branches of the trees when those look like limbs in the winter, and now that I have quit smoking my penis is hard in the morning
– well… it’s good news I suppose
– I saw my mom yesterday she was such a bloodsucking vampire
– yes I know and I hate her too


Ivan de Monbrison is a bipolar French poet and artist living in Paris, born in 1969.