A perfect torture for me

In the hope of happiness I walked so long that I have forgotten how to smile, the past looked so bleek and future looks a lot stranger in this moment even the present is a good tragically feast, I look at my self a victim of my expectations with the eyes that are dry, dry of dreams and imaginations even nightmares are lousy scripted memorial. All I see an hear are laughs , loud laughs of anticipation to be the spectator of my torture, to be tied on a poles spread by hands and legs  nude in the hot desert covered in oil, ahhh what a perfect torture I can dream for my self