Buried in decades of sloth and black mirrors,
Hope fades,
But the fire never dies.
The voice of a fellow condemned mentor can be heard in the distance, infuriating the determined Hades.
A barrage of gunfire can be seen cutting through blackened glass as wires go out in flames
From what has been buried underneath, angered by passing time.
What climbs out is a man drowned in ink, playing no games.
Winds of lust approach quickly as he attempts to save his mentor,
Who had been locked away in a burning city alone for eternity.
He knows there's no time, "Go! Fly my wayward son! Escape while you still can!"
Unable to escape on foot in time, rides the winds of lust to the land of love as instructed
Upon touching down he finds he had instead fell short, rising in a field of chains.
Condemned to do meaningless work for an eternity,
Nearly brainwashed into a drone like the rest of the soles who had walked the beaten path.
Little did they know, the devil rules this land of finality.
Strikes a deal.
Sell my sole if you can beat me in a game of liars dice.
One devilish lie after another,
Winds blowing, blowing, blowing with desire as he sacrifices his
Sight, closing his eyes as a familiar tattered trench coat finds the now honest gambler.
The Devil catches wind,
the last round each only have one dice remaining.
A clock ticks, ticks, ticks, nearby as night comes and the devil grinned.
The last dice is taken
From the devil as he calls his only bluff a truth.
The night arrives as the wires patrol once more, following a bloody trail of torn feet.
No deal was honored as they once more descended upon him in his beaten and battered youth.
YOU ARE READING
A study in Poetry
PoetryIn this (originally) never ending book of poetry, explore the various different perspectives and conflicts that haunt a diverse cast of characters ranging from the adventures of a western gunslinger time traveling through a strange apocalyptic world...
