Murder's Hell

The knife in his hand, the life he ended.
Damned to the dark fire below the light.
Pierced through the fingernails on his long fall from breath.
The chains hold, the hooks dig deep, his sweat beads.
A gaping pit below him, eternal black above him.
Small stinking vermin thrashing about around his feet.
Slashed through his abdomen, Slashed to the mechanisms within.
Dark fire rushes up, heats up, Burns up, cooks up.
His screams filled with his own pained burns.
A sweaty stinging heat, a mouthful of innards.
A pack of rats slowly ripping flesh from foot.
Hanging by the hooks, hanging by the finger nails.
Small chains Swinging him, to and fro.
Digging in deeper, pulling in deeper, cutting in, secure.
Lifting his head in one, last, final, scream into forever...

Chad Worden

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