Le Bonheur de Vivre

means the joy of living,
manic, yellow, bursting, twisted.
Black edges writhe like moccasins,
grotesque in the most stunning way:
a perverse blow against the natural order,
cruelly man amongst pastel beasts.
Here there is no self but pleasure,
no end to wild dances of pitiless allure.
I throw my head back and laugh,
the edges of a prayer dying on my lips.

This is how you painted me,
etching a silhouette in obsidian,
till there was no breath left in my lines,
no movement but endless contortion.

Come now, and watch me dance!