I can smell the heat
raising from the stone
above, the earth is warm
but cold underneath the
slab I lay, no breath I
release.
I'm cold beneath the
girth of the grave.
So cold am I, choking on
the dirt, every night
I awaken to the living,
drinking from their
fountain of forever dead
but still I am digging.
Deeply burdened by the
acid sun, bites my skin,
burns my being deep within.
Ash and bone, I'm
grinding the stone.
Dripping, bleeding,
tasting the heat like
a thirsty monster licking
its teeth.
Hunger lives in between
my teeth, grinning wide
with eyes like Sapphire
gem's.
Lips as pale as my skin,
as ivry porcelain.
Salvation comes on the
beams of sunlight
streaming from above.
So close I am,
yearning for the
taste of blood.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem