We looked into the devils eyes
soft and melting coal
we saw the fire, heard the lies
that demon spoke and told.
We looked below toward Gates of Sin
with torchlight as our guide
and heard the wailing confessions begin
as we descended at the devils side.
The labyrinth of fog made from tears
evaporated in the heat over the years
tasted of brine and aged regret
a flavor I’ll now never forget.
We stepped into Styx, that river gray
the churns and broils with froth
and felt those waves of sorrow sway
and caress us with a touch so soft
like a lover, come to bed too late
regretting a rendezvous of fate
touching with reverence bared skin
where all confessions do begin.
And the devil drew us deeper yet,
and amidst the sighs and screams
we found ourselves in the plutonian net
that fills the gaps of dreams.
So was it we willingly fell from grace
from that shining, golden place,
and descended into vortexian Hell
to hear the secrets the dead can tell.