There was nothing he could feel, he thought,
nothing but the surging of words blotting his sleeves,
creating marks of what he should've said
yet he never did.

There was nothing he could see, he thought,
nothing but the reflection in the mirror he loathes.

There was nothing there, he thought,
nothing but the menacing screams
of his abandoned self
bouncing off the walls of his home,
pleading to be brought to life.

For a second he thought he was getting benumbed,
like those he senses were just a delusion,
a disguise that he wasn't in agony
for the tormenting hands of reality.