Letters From Herr Doktor's Laboratory

February 6, 2017

Ghosts of memory haunt my cold soul.

I feel no longer,

I’m an aberration condemned by science and melanin,

Killed, I know, by the

Leviathan of arrogance that is Germany, crazed

Madmen and sociopaths stand in rank ranks,

Opportunity to kill tears a sadistic grin into the faces of fathers from the Fatherland.

This dark room, neighboring the shower room in drought,

is an experiment,

We are tested to the limits of our languages expression of pain,

Unbearable is no longer applicable when our restraints keep us

From the freedom of death.

This dark room is a testament.

Neither Old nor New it exists forever,

This room is the evil of man and curiosity.


Whips aren’t weapons any longer, they are playthings in the Devil’s children’s

Evil reigns, we are held tight by the beasts reigns, we are animals living in



Alabaster white carries us to colorless death

Race, religion, rabbis bleed into Gypsies, gays, and grey haired grandfathers.


Pleading, this white table sings it’s past,

Quiet death and screaming life, we

Regale it with gifts of our substance,

Silver, blood and Mercury mix in a poison coffin,

These camps are naught but a promise, a death wish thrown

Unto brown eyes,

Violence is a daily pain, mothers and children broken, they

Write the story of many into a twisted tapestry, threads of

Yiddish blood,

Xenophobic silloettes

Zealots and questions, this table I lie on

Holds the world under its skin.

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Hannah.. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Feb. 14 at 7:16 pm
Faboolous! I like the darkness of it.
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