mother ing

to abandon. to abandon my mother language, my langue maternelle. i could not percieve this roaring, growling trail of words as the language i was born with. my thoughts are flying on sloppy, playful consonants which belong to myriads of washingtons from irving to george and vice versa. my gaze is fixed on the french e and the french a, while i am guffawing because of the froggy 'escargot' joke. i feel numb. i feel terrible, but i have this sonorous, vigorous 'comme ca' on my tongue, right behind the row of my teeth.
i will not even try to describe how my dreams are flopping on big wings of ancient greek and latin, spanish, chinese, japanese, old celtian - but not mine. not my mother(ing - is a grammatical ending of word which is used in continious tenses) 'horosho', not my 'lyublyu', because i do not even know what 'lyublyu' is, i understand 'love' and 'amore' much better. их либе дих. аморе мио. я тоби кохаю. кохам чье. whoever was first in using the word 'globalisation' was right.
i do not know what 'lyublyu' is. i do not even know which language is my 'mother'. every time i close my eyes i see the shadow of my mother. she is screaming at me, she is threaten(ing).
rodion raskolnikov. the brothers karamazov. they know what 'lyublyu' is, as so 'nenavizhu'. they do not belong to your sonorous, vigorous consonants. they are... just like french grisaille.
b
me?
ut
who?
where?
when?
erus
eros
любовь
mother
language
ing.