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
