He smiles.
Craggy, grey-skinned -
toothless - he circles his darkened lips with his
tongue,
blistering warts, they smell.
He stares - his
bulbous eyes -
goldfish jewels shining at you from behind
the prison glass.
Gollum from Middle Earth, “my precious”.
He pulls the stars from their
places, pushing back and forth.
Stretches his arms. Pulls you in like
hookers after midnight, lusting for
your life. Strangling.
Strangling. In the starlit silence of this
strange night,
crows
start to sing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
thats what i call detailed