The worst part is the lack
Of color
Vibrance…
And no amount of Giant Steps
Could avoid the emptiness.

I heard about a torture technique
Where the prisoner is placed in an
Empty white room
With only white light to see
And white rice to eat.
I think the alienation I feel
Is like a form of that.
Lifelike solitary confinement.

You’re gone at last, so at last I can think.
Insulting! Humiliating, not to be able to fire back,
As you put me once more on a mental rack.
It’s no wonder that I want a drink.

But by now I want so much more than strife.
I want to scorch your villainy with shame,
To crush your “triumph” and ruin your name,
And make you watch how you poison life.

Yet I am stuck beneath your wealth,
Undone if I demur in the least.
You spring upon me, a mental carnivore’s feast.
While I resort to stealth.

My father watched your villainy from the beyond,
from the so-called “Heaven” in which you planned to meet him,
As if that will ever happen! As if he would want to see you!
Is enlightenment part of the afterlife?  You should hope so.

But since you finally let go of your empty  life,
I do not miss you, don't mourn you or feel that confusion
That people say I should, that I'd be torn with strife,
No, no! Not at all—I feel nothing at all.

This anxiety,
is making me anxious.
Feeding itself,
until it becomes dangerous.

It’s PTSD,
of some varying degree.
Each startup and failure,
taking its toll on me.

The inability to remember,
the pain and the fear.
Forgetting the scars,
that should be so clear.

The voice in your head,
reassuring you.
Saying this time will be different,
when you know it’s not true.

Louder and louder,
till it starts to scream.
Your anxiety grows,
and splits at the seam.

Then you give in,
letting go at last.
The voice takes control,
and repeats the past.

Another, another!!
It screams in a growl.
More, more!!
A predator on the prowl.

Then it is gone,
and you’re just floating there.
Trying to make sense of things,
trying to be aware.

Then it all crashes down,
and you’re drowning in hate.
You’re full of self loathing,
and memories that exacerbate.

Now the long road ahead,
seems to have no end.
Your chest hurts so bad,
and the tremors set in.

You can’t eat or sleep,
so you traumatize your brain.
You’re scared you might die,
but you’re more scared of the pain.

Four days and you’re better,
but the memories end.
Then that tiny voice,
starts to whisper again.

Over and over,
rinse and repeat.
Slowly killing yourself,
for a small fix of heat.

Intestines twisted into a bow
Skeleton, no skin, all bone
Chased into a grave
By someone "brave"

Head cut off, and hung at the hips
Mouth sewn shut, wires in the lips
Promised a voice
In a place of just "noise"

Ears forced down into the pharnyx
Tongue cut off, and swallowed
Chained to the dark
Left with a "spark"

Wasabi poured into each eye
Needles poked into the iris, to dry
Breathing fractured breaths
In the times of "stress"

Fingers shredded in blenders
Toes were sold by the vendors
Broke the rules
To be reduced to mere "molecules"

Heart frozen in ice
Lungs cracked in slices with a knife
Crawling towards a light
Dipped in "fright"

Genitalia, mutilated
Thighs and chest burned til it was disseminated  
Walking into the darkness
Trying to reach the "conconscious"

Frigida glacies

Playing a game of cat and mouse
but we both lose track of the bird.
My scorched soil I failed to douse,
I’m filled with such fuel; it’s so absurd.
I linger always alone in an empty house,
speaking two thoughts but I left out the last word.
They were meant with love but I turned to grouse,
either way they never seem to be heard.

I wish I was licking stamps
instead of licking my wounds.
My letter to you gifts my fingers cramps,
I hope one day you decipher it soon.
The one thing that I am best at
is always being a bad example,
I can elaborate on how to keep looking back,
but not on the best way things should be handled.
And I hope one day you’ll see your name
woven in each line and all my stanzas.
But I think when you see it that way, I’ll just explain,
not to go buying me green bananas.

When I was 15 I chose to sign up as an ***** donor,
but all are probably damaged, and the vital ones are no longer mine.
I offered them as tribute to a Queen I adore,
she collected them and added to her shrine.

My tongue is tied tight when I try to express
importance and just what it all means to me,
but if you listen closely to my chest
you’ll hear my heart beating steadily.
And when you’re dressed to the nines
I’ll still be in left in my pajamas.
Waving my arms to direct the signs,
just don’t go buying me green bananas.

I accepted your world became my cage
but I was loyal; I didn’t need a lock.
I reasoned it as the final stage,
I didn’t need a chain just for you to mock.

I’m not angry, I’m not sad,
no resentment from me, don’t go feeling bad.
I’d still take this dagger as long as it’s your hand that grips
I wouldn’t escape or try to stagger,
sadly I’m done with my trips.

I concede and admit that I’ve gone mad,
welcomed with hallelujahs and an amen.
I’m having trouble stripping off my plaid,
but I figure it’s finally time to change stripes again.

I once caught a sparrow, small and black, its wings shivered as I took it in,
Fed the poor little thing, stroked its breast and listened for a heartbeat,
There it was, small but strong, its pulse erratic. Scared creature,
After the day, it had recovered and was ready to fly away, as it was born to do
So, I broke my sparrow’s wings.

Now my sparrow sits in its box, its heart is small and strong,
But I don’t let it out to see the light of day for too long,
I love my sparrow, I look at it night and day,
My warm embrace, from time to time, reminds the thing that it’s mine,
I keep my sparrow in the dark

Today, my sparrow was looking as effervescent and as strong as ever,
It hopped with pride and glee and looked so lovingly at me,
So, I took it out of its box and placed it by the open window,
The wild-eyed adoration of Raa was in its eyes as it peeped at freedom,
So, I broke my sparrows wings.

My sparrow is looking a little tired and upset,
I placed it in the box without a friend or a strand of hope to live on,
I told my sparrow that I love it and that it is special,
And it believes that I love it as it loves me, but I only like it because it is black.
I keep my sparrow in the dark.

Bahamut, splinter my ribs into dust.
Carve your scripture into my scalped skullcap.
Brand me with the shame of fool-hearted lust.
Tear me limb from limb in your tangled trap.
Spit my name into the annals of Hell.

I know this loneliness
Will forever be around.
Giving me pains,
And hurting my wounds.
.
I know this loneliness
Will never leave me.
It will torture my soul
And will break me.

My stronger warrior soul is confused and lost
Longing to be free from the visit of unpleasant thoughts
For five years, I was a wanderer between the glorious light and the evil of darkness
Which  seldom renders me adrift but often empty  and frightened
I would only try to dismiss the spell, the fight
Then battle to find my soul and to restore my heart
At length, amidst these giant storms and misery
Never would my tongue reveal my real unutterable agony
But the memories of the past became too haunting, more violent
And now I’m at the edge of the dark and eternal uncertainty
For sometime, I continued to believe that the nightmare was gone
That my visions were blessed with joy, and my dreams were untroubled
Suddenly, I awoke with the same frightful dream as before
The devil visited me again in my hours of sleep
Where did he get his powers and permission to torture me?
I contemplated one more time and realized
I understood why I dread my dreary destiny
I have not completely forgiven the devil for what he has done to me
So now to release myself from the chain of pain
and suffering
I’m breaking free from the sweet revenge I daily seek
As I command my wings to flee from hell and whisper my forgiveness
I heard a hymn from my  guardian angel’s melodic voice
A wonderful prayer for my deliverance