In mind’s dungeon no rest is found
Nothing satisfies dour assemblage…
Every facet of faces is sepia frown
Their words—constant clanging
Haranguing—are physical battery
There’s no such thing as quiet
Not for a moment, hour, day…
No peace exists; dimmest corner
Shame, pound chronic migraine.
Specters of the dead, shadows of
People still living—somewhere—
Writhe, serpents in agony.
Tears don’t appease, nor repentant
Prayer, pleas for absolution.
Memory’s verbal rats gnaw feet…
Can’t sleep, on guard against
Something larger…toxic, toothier.
People who don’t believe Hell’s
A real place have yet to experience
Mental dungeon where everything
You ever feared, recall—each cruel
Betrayal, humiliation, shunning and
Mockery—whatever is horror, grief
Becomes bitter flame which burns
The flesh, sears tongue, blinds eye
Turns heart and soul to ash…
But leaves mind alert to suffer.
Those who escape discovered secret:
Dungeon keeper’s been around for
Eons, nothing new about him; he
Merely repeats what old voices speak
Copy/pastes stinging untruths…he’s
Lucifer, the Liar.
©Ennle Madresan, 2019 ~ All rights reserved.