What was there were the forces of creeping nature;
All I am is a part of that
From the inside out:
A gullet filled with my own filth;
A rotting pig inside a trash can
Lid on, lid on, shut it out
Let it out
I don't know what it is to let out;
So it stays
So where are you now?
I only ask myself
And only I can heed a reply
Don't look back they say;
No I am not
Only looking forward to what always has been
And what has always been has been released;
From a dreams wake of silken sheets
And familiar sighs
Good night again;
Before I can speak she reply's
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem