Bits of smoke staggered away from the deaf nose and scattered across the room
Unsteady body braiding 'kretek cigarette' ration
Today only two sticks of literacy inspiration are left
The eyes are stuck because they are sodomized too often
In the corner of the room near the hospital soup kitchen, lies a virgin who is said to be poor in desire
While falling onto the bench that lay stiff, writhing wet
So far, the ontology that is glorified is absurd, anomalous, and sky high
Antipathy, antigone, anti-discrimination and camel-anti-joking in the ivory tower
The horizon in the serrated ontology of screwdrivers, hammers, stethoscopes, hospital tools and cleaning service tools races in a skilled work routine
Colored white messages from the first floor to the sixth floor
Cream-painted hospital stumbles on critical discourse
Free medical treatment—sutris—drain, but in demand and qualified.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem