Only which one will he remain …

cracked at torso, never feels all that idyllic anymore
murmurs in motion, an ocean of high-wired pain
Sends himself insane by way of the cutthroat, remotely controlled divide – between decidedly good against never-ending evil

where scratching, scathing nails refurbish these thankless walls

hostile four by four foot doom room letting no-one back inside of these yelling, yelping corners

angry fists and constant curvature of a mangled spine – a sensuous lip sip and gently pressed smacker of dribbled food and water

tied to this chained portrayal … forever

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