Hell is in the mind
A prison of torment
An abyss alive and well
Serpents hissing, coiled and poised
Carving flesh and snapping bone
In the thralls of burning sulfur
This acrid burial ground
Where I will die a thousand deaths
Will never sleep or never shut
Amidst my skull, inside my blood.
Cold reserves of a tonic
I should never imbibe
But I have dranken more than my fill tonight
Consumed with morbidity
As their talons pierce the tendons
Scaly wings frantically flapping
Taking of me or from what’s left
Taunts fade to whispers
This catatonia of my heart
Locks in place inside the inferno from within.
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