The stench of death looms.
Perfumes with pungent stagnancy,
The aroma consumes.
It makes a nest deep in your nasal cavity.
Like a climber on the ascent.
It lodges itself in with its pickaxe,
a direct line to your brain,
So, you'll never forget that smell again.
And in this fetid hole, it's all you can sense.
This putrid scent, intense immense.
Leaves you rotting in suspense.
As the ghouls cackle, and the fires crackle,
you realise there is no escape.
This is your fate,
a world of hate and fire
in which to ruminate.
The taste of soot,
foul, bitter air you can cut.
Gets inside, it fills your lungs.
Like the acrid taste of an unloaded gun.
In this wretched hive, this underworld abode,
where demons thrive,
we dream of the open road.
Walk the streets of hell,
blistered feet, a charred shell.
Crooked neck from too much screaming.
Boiling tears streaming.
Burning canyons into your cheeks,
to fill with rivers and creeks.
As the tears never stop
in this hellish backdrop.
Thanks for reading
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