There’s not much that I can say, this is not the kind of torment that will make you cry.
or make your day.
Your mind is under torque,
your heart is suffocating with guilt,
the body shivers under a blanket of sweat,
I live with you, my dear Torment.
At night you crawl into my sheets,
you sooze me with your worked hands,
caressing my skin like sand paper on pine,
I close my eyes, for I know what comes…
A storm, a choke hold, across my throat…
The air grows thicker, blood turns stale.
I have nothing else to give,
light simmers and flickers.
You’re everywhere I look,
It rages inside of me,
obsessively, derailing my thoughts…
Like a two-year-old high on coke.
No matter how much parental control,
There’s nothing to do but wait it out.
I want out. My mask owns me, and I’ve lost sight of the prize. My torment is me, I’m my torment, it’s my misery, and I relish the need, once it goes, what will be left of me?