Torturous

My soul is being

bended, twisted,

pulled, viciously tormented,

by the voices of the mad.

Their growling, 

desolated singing, 

moaning, screaming, 

their highly pitched barks;

Banging, clapping,

falsetto singing;

squatting figures

all around.

Throughout my mind

the motley colors,

my pierced brain

are tearing apart.