BY ARMEL J. NGAMALEU
There are days of crisis
The urine turns red
The fingernails giggle
The stomach burns
The cold freezes us
A tooth is rotten
Freedom has lied to us
The flowers in our hair are fading
The tongue has taken leave of your teeth
Your clothes are all dirty
Books close like windows
The belt comes off your pants
You feel less beautiful or just ugly
You feel like a rotten fish head
Your grandmother disappoints you
Your pockets are blind as fate
The monthly rent notification still surprises you
A diurnal owl hoots incessantly
The ambulance reminds you of your death or illness
You pray without wanting to
The smoke detector screams with rage
A stone is heavy in the head
Children look like bills
Emails go unanswered
Hopes get burned
The meat is salty
Yogurt is expired
Love is roasted in the oven
Tap water turns yellow
Your hard drive crashes
The house is dirty
A cockroach dances in the corner
We are very late
One feels empty
The icy wind carries us away
Internet is not a butterfly
A big green fly gives you a kiss
“We’re pleased to inform you that …” is an old memory
We don’t call the people who love us
We are just an elementary and negligible particle
The telephone is silent
The plane in the night sky reminds you of your last vacation
Your to-do list grows longer without erasures
The folded face of the bed does not smile at you
Each grain of the rosary is a knot of misfortune
One discovers our infidelity or that of the other
You miss your train
The homeless don’t care about you
You look stupid in an important interview
The mailbox is empty or contains useless things
Sleep is on vacation
Don Quixote no longer exists
Time stands still
The past and the present are mixed up
The future is a fog
