hf

when i walk those stairs

down to hellfire altars

and varnish stripped saints

my bloodied lips steaming under hot air and cries

when those tolling bells murmur

with a priest's condemning eulogies

on how i will burn eternally

how i had more to my time

but im going to hell

for taking my life

i hope there is a corner

where ember haze isn't as blinding

where i can stay

because i am so cold, my blood's solidified

because i've been waiting

and waiting, until the very end

but endings don't come, i never let them

i had cut off my tongue, i always listened 

but ending's never come

i woke up with hospital visits

i wrote my sins on tile floors

bloodied from wrists to fingertips

my brain is slush, dripping out my cavities

and the candle wax is melting

on the altar table of apathy

how i had more time

i hope in hell there is a place

for the damned by their hands

and the punishment is softer 

i hope that God will understand

Reviews

[.]

I told you before that I loved this poem, but I was afraid to comment because it is a heavy poem, a heavy subject, and dark. But thinking literaturely, this is a great writing. Your words hits me, hits me that much I afraid to speak about. Pardon my naivety on this, you are the only poet I afraid to read his poems.
Strong poem, as always. Hope you are doing well my friend.

[John the Baptist]

Hell is the greatest recruiting and control device ever invented by man.