Stood in front of the gate,
between life
and the place where demons wait.
My hand is on the handle,
I slowly pull It forward.
It opens with a creak,
sounding like nails down a chalkboard.
The heat hits me,
licking my face.
I should have turned back,
but now I've got to make my peace.
The first room I enter,
an enormous chamber,
a giant demonic post office.
Only one teller, to serve the millions of souls.
To set foot within,
we need to fill in
the paperwork required.
Paper that gets singed with fire
and tinged with soot,
before you even make your mark in blood.
Stood in line,
this queue is never ending.
Need to sign,
but one mistake sends you back to the beginning,
the heat is unrelenting.
Papers signed,
I walk through the opening.
In front of me, a city, like any other,
just hotter,
with a smell of sulphur.
More cluttered with skulls
than I am used to,
but I may be here a while,
so, this will have to do.
There are streets
with all you can eat,
as long as you don't mind rancid meat.
Bars to while away the hours,
but the drinks all taste like ditch water.
They don't get you drunk,
and you still get the hangover,
just from entering the joint.
There are cinemas
all showing the same movie on repeat.
The story of your life,
replayed as you are strapped into your seat.
Eyes pinned open,
so, you can't miss a moment.
Forced to watch the same mistakes,
over and over
with no rest breaks.
I shouldn't be here, I scream.
Like a bad dream.
But no one hears a word,
they are all screeching the same.
In this place of endless agony
and burning hot, hungry flames.
Thanks for reading,
Peace, Love and Poetry
Kyle.
No comments:
Post a Comment