Boring holiday in Purgatory,
Among old fires, now flat.
Hornet-colored, swears she's seen me,
Stinger-out, the gorgeous brat.

Lunar-citrus sour,
Twice, at least. Of course it's more.
Pale, and terrified of foresight,
Uninspired by the cure.

Poison-focused, smoky heart.
You'll find the best nightlife in Hell.
These horns scratch Heaven, battle-scarred,
And my tail's not hidden well.

Uncanny observant stars, 'neath
Sleepy lids, catch a red,
That's not unfamiliar.
-
Past light, she flew, brandished
Guns, in both hands, left-rusty,
But right, always silver.

Rolling studded, bony wrists,
Somehow, mortal in her gaze.
One shot, un-taken, doubt persists,
Losing games she doesn't play

Sulfur-sweat-soaked barrel
Bets the other bullet
"Can't miss."
One canon scrapes my temple.
"Point the second
Between my hips."

A smile! As I am
Obliged, the danger
Briefly gone, but
Then again,
A trigger pulled
Wouldn't quite be worth the song.

"Mean to **** you," now informed, I
Stood up straight, and heard the plan.
My gorgeous rival unaware,
This demon's such a tired man.

Still, for your opaque aura,
Weary throats scream life-alive.
Wondered by unhappy beauty,
Disconnected from your drive.
Normal dealings not requested
Sweetened suffering, in slime.
Assumed, the mantle of the satyr,
Took a breath, and finally rhymed:

"Well honey, you can't **** the Devil,
But would you do me a favor, and try?
I've been wondering, for quite a while now,
Just exactly how it'd feel to die."