Gedicht
Eaindra
Milled Timber
Hairs
Hands
Legs
All have been chopped, cropped
And dropped on all fours . . .
Fangs
Chainsaws
Spearheads
Ride all over my skin.
I whimper
My lungs out.
In my primal scream
My whines . . . curdle my blood
My meat . . .
Layer by layer
How spiteful . . .
They even collect
Shaves and shreds of
My flesh and blood
For fuel.
Hands
Legs
All have been chopped, cropped
And dropped on all fours . . .
Fangs
Chainsaws
Spearheads
Ride all over my skin.
I whimper
My lungs out.
In my primal scream
My whines . . . curdle my blood
My meat . . .
Layer by layer
How spiteful . . .
They even collect
Shaves and shreds of
My flesh and blood
For fuel.
© Translation: 2013, ko ko thett
Milled Timber
Milled Timber
© 2011, Eaindra
Gedichten
Gedichten van Eaindra
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Milled Timber
Milled Timber
Hairs
Hands
Legs
All have been chopped, cropped
And dropped on all fours . . .
Fangs
Chainsaws
Spearheads
Ride all over my skin.
I whimper
My lungs out.
In my primal scream
My whines . . . curdle my blood
My meat . . .
Layer by layer
How spiteful . . .
They even collect
Shaves and shreds of
My flesh and blood
For fuel.
Hands
Legs
All have been chopped, cropped
And dropped on all fours . . .
Fangs
Chainsaws
Spearheads
Ride all over my skin.
I whimper
My lungs out.
In my primal scream
My whines . . . curdle my blood
My meat . . .
Layer by layer
How spiteful . . .
They even collect
Shaves and shreds of
My flesh and blood
For fuel.
© 2013, ko ko thett
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