Looking down past my bloodied toes,
Nestled in the sun-burnt couch grass,

Standing at the precipice…

The waves thrashing against the slimy stones below;
The rabid beast roaring behind me…

Who will be kinder to my flesh and bones?

The tide and the jutting rocks are waiting for my blood to swirl among them;
The wolf is coming to pull the skin and fat off my arms or legs…

His breath steams from the corpses rotting in his intestines,
His fur is wet with the blood of others, and the saliva strings of his own.

Better to feel the stinging spray of salty sea water,
As the rocky points pierce through my organs.

Better to feel exhilaration before eradication.