Metaphase
Philippe Fichot
Under this grey sky
Criddled by flashes
I lost my footing
Inside me
Step by step
I lost my footing
Inside me
On the blue skin of the dead man
Some thin red seaweeds
Get in a tangle
I'm going where nothing moves around
I offer my body to the animals on heat
On heat
On heat
Lack of makes of fear
Walking to torture
Scaffold
Scaffold
Huddle up till the unfinal point
Where the human being becomes a mass
The soil on me dries out under the cold wind
It's no more useful to scream
It's no more useful to be hurt
Thousand dead at the bottom of stomach
Have created my abysses
On those bristling faces I can only read patience
Not a word for those hurts
Just a cross