j'ai perdu mon corps

I wrote this strange poem (which is presented below), slept on it, and realized that my French grammar is lame (many thanks to Cendrine Marrouat)—though I would call it more of a typo; my French grammar is doing alright (or rather its absence (only for the time being; am learning, am I?)). What I also realized was that this poem is a(n) (almost) direct continuation to events described in yet another poem I wrote some time ago (and it's nothing but a coincidence):

Furthermore, I highly recommend the animated film I allude to in the poem's title. It won the Nespresso Grand Prize in the International Critics' Week section at the 2019 Cannes Film Festival, and it indeed is amazing. The animation, the soundtrack, the idea, and the surrealistic, existentialistic energy it emanates. By the way, the film is based on a book.

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j'ai perdu mon corps

now i watch my head soar

in the air as though

it's a chinese lantern

and there's so much gore

i want to vomit but i can't.

the dribbling blood creates a mysterious pattern

on the floor. I'm afraid

to lose it all and faint;

unconsсious, my head

would dribble on the floor

and rock and roll.

meanwhile, my body,

a lifeless breathless doll,

turns blue and starts to decompose

i hope it'll serve as compost

for some hypothetical rose

or as dinner to a bear

i'm fine with both

and honestly, i do not care

this poem is gross

but i don't care

i lost my body, i am experiencing stress,

stress in excess:

at work, at home.

and now i have this gruesome syndrome:

i lost my head,

pardon, my bad,

i lost my body.