Deep below the skin, passed the vestibule of an inner Hell,
sunken at the nadir of an undrinkable well,
drowning out the sound of the better angels of a broken nature
listening to devils sharing their side of the truth,
twisting reason to claim it a sacrificial act in the name of love,
a blasphemous rumination whose sole end was a cry for suffering’s end,
preferring the comfort of still bones resting in dust than a comforting lie,
I looked Death in the eye, flirted and danced in a weary waltz,
and told Her I would be meeting Her soon.