Inside my head I am spat at
by hot saliva that reeks ashes.
My controller is a demon named Shame
who inverts my eyes into their sockets
and curls back my lips slowly for the pain.

My inside head is my straight jacket,
No one can extract me out.
It's infested with cobwebs, crawling with spiders
that lay eggs in my weeping indentations.

Head inside my heart-shaped skull
spins madly like a fast-forward wormhole.
Intricacy and incoherentness staining the walls
as dots of blood speck a butcher's apron.

Inside head my own voice can be faintly heard
inside a cupboard locked thrice,
a cupboard of iron and steel and brick,
squealing, screeching in twisted suffocation.

I was never hit
I was never whipped
But the torture I have endured
Lives like a parasite inside my head.