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It's such a beautiful day to bathe naked in potato salad. Backstroking in chunks of Kewpie mayo-covered vegetables. My hair is covered in creamy white gunk. I feel like a princess. You can call me Bona Sforza - queen of root vegetables. My lashes are longer than fresh dill, nipples redder than beets and thighs pale like eggshells. Wearing a tight chastity belt made from potato skin and desperately waiting for you. I'd gently whip your body with sauteéd carrot leaves and tie your hands in parsley.

Pardon my bad breath, I ate too much.



12 grams of juicy meat. An alien? A vagabond knight? Every night you climb on my bed, waiting for me under my pillow. I’m your princess – release me from this sadness. In Russia, cockroaches symbolize wealth. I’m rich. You give me everything. Shining metallic shells are penetrating all over my sweaty body. Micro legs are like needles hurting my skin. I gently spread my legs, waiting patiently for your cold vibrating body inside me. Fresher than apple mint juice.

Ouch! You radioactive beast. That hurt.

Narcissistic provocateur. In order to survive, you want to destroy my soul. Kinetic asshole. Cockroaches live 180 days; in a person's life it means nothing. I despise you. Return to your pre-born state. In a beautiful cocoon and make butterflies feel insecure. The animal kingdom is waiting for you, my love.



I haven’t taken a shower in a few days, and I smell like laundry detergent.

Thin cracked lips are smeared in dried pesto.

I’m fixing my hair looking at my webcam – my mirror is too dirty.

Getting out of bed seems to be impossible.

I’ll make a braid out of my thick fairy like hair

it will remind you of that crumbled challah

Pull them until I begin to cry.

My ruined hair tips look like your old paint brushes –

the cheap ones that come with watercolors.

Let’s pretend to be together,

laying on wet grass,

drinking boxed wine from Selgros,

pissing on me in the bushes behind the Arena.

I always fall in poison ivy, my body aches.

Your cigarette breath makes me calm,

your Greek godlike hair

Can I sing you a song…?

Something romantic, you know I have a bad taste.

„Hands up baby hands up.

Give me your heart, give me give me.”

Why are your tattoos talking to me? I want to start a revolution.

With whom shall I begin this conversation? I’ll begin with your left arm.

Let’s ban potato salads. Yes, that seems like a great idea.

The naked lady replies: “Fuck off”

Have I drunk too much? Is it time to get into politics?

Your other tattoos are telling me the same things.

“Cherish today, not your past.”

I stare at you sleeping and take a last sip of wine.

My Liebe! My cupid. I whisper goodnight to your drunken body.

I shed a tear, untie my braids and kiss your cheek.



I’m singing Trojanowska. “Here lies your evil and love.”

Quit staring at me! Are you surprised? A huge butterfly flew from your right (or left) shoulder. Jeez, I can’t remember. I miss you so much I forgot everything. Black and white rough dots a la Braille on your skin transformed into a childlike painting. Standard colors that only appear in my dreams or on a box of cheap paint. Your hat is new! It reminds me of a tortilla wrap from Lidl. Maybe we'll prepare it for dinner? When we wake up, I’ll go and buy some. Once I open my eyes, please tell me: Meine schöne Meerjungfrau.

Mm, wonderful. Neukölln changed into a village oasis.

A wreath of black flowers on my ribs vanished. It dissolved into thin air. Once again, the both of us are pure. Wait a second… look at my nipples! Hard and softly bitten by you – how else could it be. With pride I’m showing my pain.

I continue to sing. I’ll be like Trojanowska, your favorite. “Every day you want more of me, more of me.”


Melanie Wróblewska (she/her) was born in Chicago and is based in Posen, Poland. An artist involved in writing, performance and researching trash content online. Mainly creates works inspired by the "outcasts" of society she meets while traveling the world alone. Graduate of Intermedia at University of Art in Poznań. Studied Film Studies and Creative Writing at the Adam Mickiewicz University. Currently, she is a first year Master's student of New Media and Animation at the Academy of Art in Szczecin. Instagram: @melaniewroblewska

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