One night i woke up trapped,
my body, time was pausing,
the cold was burning,
the infinite was squeezing.
Resigned flesh,
the worm was whispering
truths of suppression,
traversing my elimination.
Like stuffed inside a matchbox
the shadow breathes every corner,
it doesn't matter if the water of my eyes
dampens with obsession.
My labored panting
threatens my throat with preassure,
no blessed glimmer
will waste its time in my prison.
I deserve this, I deserve to tremble,
to close my eyeslids and shiver.
I asked: are you going to eat me?
The question starts to leap.
Further on I heard it come,
tearing skulls and imagining,
infinite black stain bearing —
hunger.
Skin and tooth;
each bite was slow,
not out of pleasure
but out of suffering.
The night was aching
because I forced her to clothe herself in perdition,
to mold herself into heresy,
to put me in her mouth of hell.
She preferred
to disguise herself as a caress.
But she ate, she bit,
because I, foolish, wanted it
.
- dotrar