Cut, slice, saw.
Crush, smash, grind.
****, stab, pierce.
Make them fall,
all in all.

Tick-tock, I hate your clock.
Ding-****, the dreadful throng,
bulbous and bland
just like your head.

Your head is white,
your clothes are white,
your hands are white,
your shoes are white,
but your house?
Your house is green.

Your clocks are green,
your tables are green,
your watches are green,
your drawers are green,
and your walls?
They are green too.

Even I am green.
My blood runs rust,
but clothes flow lime.
My shoes, my skirts,
my socks, my shirts?
All are green.
But then I am another clock.

A mother’s mourning
first now heard.
Sudden shrieking
tearing cloth and hair
ground beat, pounded,
rage building.
Do you hear it, do you see it?

In heated irons
corpse hangs
wrists burned
through flesh to bone
protruding arrow
pierces chest.
I know you see it, but do you hear it?

Break the bones, crush the souls.
Doctor’s orders, through and through.
Walk the times, turn the keys.
Hatred’s fire, grew and grew.
No respite, no delight.