The Faint Room You've Captured Me In
The curtain on the window is getting smaller
Venomously like how it might taste
The yellow on the wall spreads
I've got a feeling that my hair won't grow any longer
I've got a feeling that the bread is stale
Every phenomenon outside this room is sacred
I just have to carry myself out under this dress
That is as heavy as the flesh of a calf
and tastes exactly like a raw veal
And it's liquid flows into my hair and drenches me down to my neck
Where you can see the red fluid
Loops of a fallen hair rest down on my breast as I try to fit myself in it
I didn't kill the sheep, I have killed no innocent
But someday they will catch a glimpse of my eaten curtain
And they will surround the window panes with a bold stare
And their eyes will boil with a floating bubble in it
As it touches my bare elegance
And again your heads are in the way
With your eyes making holes in my window lighting in
Even if you cleanse your eyes with mud
You were always to remember me
'Jessica Warrior'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem