It runs through my head,
Pumping hate through my veins,
I'm moving fast.
As I dash through a thicket
Water gurgles and twigs break.
A slab of great white rock,
It extends out in front of me,
The edge comes ever closer.
It's all happening in slow motion.
My legs jump without consent,
Wind whips at my eyes.
Seagulls are pulled towards the sky,
While I am dragged down to the rocks and water,
All goes black as I close those eyes,
And I open my true eyes.
Beachy Head must be a good breathing place
When not in my nightmares!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very interesting poem with a powerful, compulsive rhythm. This reads like a nightmare.