At times the pain reaches levels
of too much, on the verge of
The muffled sound and the cold of
a thousand winters rushes through
his mind’s overload.
At times he found that only pain
against pain was the way to relief
the agony of his mentality.
A layer upon a layer of insolent ache
added to the scarred holster that is his skin,
the false comfort of self inflicted hurt.
At times the opiates, the drink,
the strong force of electricity
showering through the skull would
numb the senses and blind his memory.
Can he ever consider a life outside
these concrete walls of infinite silence?
Where the only sound that reaches his ears
is that of his coming death.