I do not think Hell will be
fire and brimstone, and sulfur geysers.
No medieval, halloween demons
ripped from Dante's manuscripts.

Hell will be in our minds,
our introverted, bleached brains
where we are doomed to watch
the lives we can no longer live,
over and over and over again,
While they play across the white coroner's sheet
as Satan's projector hums.

i told them i want to
be somebody
and they asked why
i couldn't just be me
can't you see?
being myself
just isn't
enough
i need to be Somebody
capital
s

In the winter you will lie
soul beguiled and rested eye
deathly dreams that dream to die
In the dead of dusk

In December you will sleep
Stowed away the dreams you keep
The sea inside you, swirling deep
In the dead of dusk

Daytime thoughts of innocence
happiness and diligence
follow you to requiem
In the dead of dusk

Lightest thoughts on surface, you
forget about what's real
what's true
until the dusk envelops you
that dead and demon dusk

Now Winter's winds are calling you
shadows cast on what is true
white cat, now black cat
sun now moon
in the dead of dusk

Everything you thought you knew
sleep will twist and mangle you
nightmares creep inside of you
in the dead of dusk

Morning follows
sun rises up
nightmares dangle on the cusp
disappear now,
Twelve hours burn up
then drag you down
back to the dead of dusk

there is a poet with
the same name as my
ex-lover
's mistress
and every time i read her poetry
i weep
because it is so beautiful
but i cannot love it
because i imagine it was strung
by Her
just like Him.