Who,
if not you,
could love me
when I become a dragon
and flakes appear on the neck
pustules on the skin
and hair on the legs?

Who,
if not you,
would ever love my lies
and my spits?

Sometimes
when you rest your chin in the palm of the hand,
you could have a woman's name.

You gaze as if looking into infinity
- or as if being blind-
and you get sad
and I feel that it is like to love yourself,
as if your hand were my hand
and your eyes were the same eyes
- sad -
that spin inside my sockets.