Torment.

When we walk in circles empty, 

We walk dying. 

When we drown in our actions and tears, 

we submerge and float helpless. 




When we knock, 

repeatedly knock in to that glass sharded


barb-wired


 hard wall. 

Head forward.

Crashing at full momentum.

Whilst cold clammy palms lay bare


 flat and inflicted on this wall. 

Taking the repelled energy back to the same flesh ripping, 

Skull shattering wall.

Blood dripping from forehead to nose and cheek. 

Pieces of skin, clotted and lucid blood inhaled in with every deep breath when striking 


and stricking injury. 

Again and again.


Exhausted. 

Lips trembling of pain. 

Salty from tears and those Red 

Red drips . 

Condensation from the two.

Mouth breathing in gusts . 




When we forget to feel, 

that feeling of heart, 

Of keeping whole.

And wanting pure and true. 

We become. 

Only the accustomed pain we revel in 

We enjoy, 


we relishes the high 

The sting,


the burn of euphoria . 





When we slaughter ourselves 

The same way, 

Everyday, 

We begin not feel that pain 

The injury,

 of the next approaching stab; 

the shardes of glass and brick and wire that becomes apart of us.

That become us.




When we walk in cycles empty 

We walk dying. 

When we drown in our actions and tears,

We submerge and  float helpless.




When pain becomes us 

And we become pain 





Life becomes torment.