Scream! At the piles of rust!
Scream! At the heaps of misery you created!
Scream! At the brittle bones you left to dry in the sun!
Scream! At the corpses left hanging from the string of so-called sin!
You brought the beast out of the cage!
You let it kill the oppressed!
And now you try to feed it more!
Scream! At your inhumanity!
my face is a cage
and the doves inside are suffocating
in a pile of their own shit
my arms are broken wings
and their featherless forms are useless
in the mud,
in the dirt,
in the silt,
in the pores of the earth,
with the worms,
the moles,
the bugs,
what is the meaning of it all, anywho?
is it part of some grand scheme, some astral plot
to make us whole again
some day far from now?
perhaps, on the contrary, there is nothing;
are we born simply to exist?
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