Tales of Torment: Friction Burns

By day, and by night

my sweat runs cold,

while my chest, burns hot,

friction burns scar my heart‐

To no limit, my thoughts write chaos as my fortune‐

By each minute, and in every moment

every breath is heavier than the last,

and repeated, is only one of my most dangerous wishes...

to breathe my last‐

When, will this storm pass?

I'd give anything to escape this torment...

but within the confines of this burning paradise,

all I have...

are my blood red eyes

and black colored lungs-

When, I ask...

will the giving of this "gift" called life, finally be done?...

By sunrise, and sunset

I turn over, and over in episodes of unrest

while my heart folds over, and over,

until those very same creases,

outline the perimeter of each and every of the pieces

in which it then has no choice, but to fall...

a beautiful but, bittersweet pile of glass stains the ground surrounding my feet‐

All the while my mind, turns over and over

and in, on itself...

tearing everything apart, including itself‐

Where, I ask...

is my end?

With every minute that may pass,

these threads grow more, and more thin‐

It's only a matter of when

the last remaining hope comes to a shred‐

But, until then...

these Tales of Torment will continue to make a home of the space my head‐

For what, I ask...

in this dread, is worth holding onto?...

Through the increasing weight of each and every day,

when time itself has become a plague,

when there is not an ounce of strength in my legs

to withstand the burning breaths of Despair,

when nightmares recur by the night in my bed

and by each day, another Tale of Torment is written‐

What, again I ask...

in and through this dead, is worth holding onto?...