It would resonate inside my head, bouncing off my skull,
The noise absorbed by membranes, nerves, and veins.
I think it would die inside concrete walls eventually…
Yet it has no time to sleep: the sound waves constantly move,
Shocks and jolts of energy and currents electrify me.
And that…that is all by the sound of voice in ear,
The meeting of eyes, a glimpse of teeth beneath said lips.
It would be a cry of an animal which has been abused,
Its mind twisting every risen hand into a striking fist,
Never considering it might be a scratch behind the ears,
Always questioning the motives behind an open palm.
A child’s scream of being tickled;
In pain, gasping for breath, but enamored by every second
Of the torture, a blissful, beautiful torture…
I’m already screaming.
I hate…and I love…every minute of it.