Bone pressured as in a vice
Pushing forward defining shape
Sculptured in pain
Lines of fire arching outwards
Burning hollows falling deep
Every bone screams
A topography of pain
The outer world lost
Focus turns inwards
Tracing each line
Measuring each point
In a bone white landscape
Under muscle and skin
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem