Screamweaver.

You make me want to scream:

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.