Poeter.se logo icon
Redan medlem?   Logga in


R.I.P - C.O.W

The most Unnatural turned Natural Death of Charles Oswald Watkins



There's no window. I stand here, dreaming and searching for the brilliant sun. I'm being led through a chute into the knocking box, where a large cylindrical hold awaits; through which the head pokes and the stun operator presses a pneumatic gun between my eyes. A steel bolt shoots into the skull, which renders me semi-unconscious for a while. They don't want me “too dead” right now; my heart might stop pumping and the body will bleed out too slow or insufficiently. From here, I'm moved down the line to the “shackler” who attaches a chain around one of my legs, and hoists me up in the air, where I now dangle; upside down.

Reality's invading my brain with a split second image of flesh, stuck in the teeth of a madman. The “sticker” starts cutting the jugular vein in my neck, and I'm now gradually being drained for several minutes in the “blood rail”. My bones start creeping through, the air is dead cold, and I'm being moved once again down the red stained room. In here, suffering's just a game with a silent expression, and I'm barely alive; when the “head skinner” starts peeling the skin of my face. I'm through trying now, frozen in fear, while I wonder what it is they're after. Finally, the "legger" cuts off the lower portion of my legs with the clippers, and I'm being completely skinned, eviscerated, and cut in half. There's no window, no blood on the door, and nothing is left but an eerie stillness.


Fri vers (Fri form) av Tobias Nilzon
Läst 454 gånger och applåderad av 6 personer
Publicerad 2010-08-13 15:03

Bookmark and Share

  > Nästa text
< Föregående

Tobias Nilzon
Tobias Nilzon