Heaven is a lunatic's dream
Birthed from labors screams
Mangled and fetal
Images of grotesque mockeries
Of spiritual endeavors
And my head is filled with soulless eyes
That will never see the light
Hell is my contemptuously solitary pursuit
As I wield my own stunning descent into peril
My lips speak misused truths
Scarred and barren
And dare I stay my own impending desecrations
My own self-mutilations
For just one hour of just one more day
The lights in the skies inform my eyes
That time is short
And the aborted minions are about to be set free
Soon my soul's cellars,
Now emptied of their bound occupants
Will be for rent or sale
What price for these unlocked compartments
Would any dare to pay?
My soul on the auction block
"Slightly used," the barker mused
"but possibly a plausible fancy
for divinities unhinged
From far off, lofty temples."