Do you know.
What torment means.
Is it the sad song.
That darkness sings.

A mournful tune.
To witch the words are long gone.
A shallow feeling.
A depressing song.

Is it empty.
Like a black hole.
Like a deep dark trench.
That will never be full.

Is it pain.
Like a rupturing heart.
Or a poor vein.
Popped with a sharp dart.

A tightening in your chest.
Like your heart had stopped.
Does torment feel.
Like being dropped.

Can you see torment.
In the eyes of man.
Slowly burning.
Like food in a pan.

Is it blood running.
Running from your neck.
When from your dead body.
The bird does peck.

What does torment.
Mean to you.
You'll never know my meaning.
Until you've seen what I've been through.

The familiarities that were once comforting
Have now become tear stained nightmares.
The anticipation of a new master piece-
One that brought the promise of change
And through magic became strokes
Of color-changing beauty, has now
Become dread and guilt.
The mirror cannot reflect the memories
Etched into crystalized eyes.
It cannot show the inner bruising,
From self-mutilation. It cannot show
The web work of past words that
Constrict the heart, barely holding
Together what was already broken.
The instability in a voice is ignored,
While time still continues all around.
One single moment can be sent into
Devastation while the earth doesn’t
Blink so much as an acknowledgment.
The smell of a crimson blade, should
Not be easily understood. The accusations
Should never have been, should never
Have become reality. If love is present,
Then these familiarities should be absent.

i'm the bone that you broke 
that never quite healed 
the same way again
familiar
yet slightly out of place
then you asked for a storm 
to break you in a familiar way
so i gave you silence 
and it was more 
than you could ever take
i write so much about grasping
at things i can't hold onto
like your hand 
since it's been slightly out of place
and now i'm not sure 
if i've been talking about you
or myself
they told me that the ink on the page
would replace you eventually
but i think i'm writing in your blood
and once the poetry 
is out of my system 
my veins will dry up 
and i'll look just like you

[holyoak]