No Virgil to guide in the viewing of my sins
Yet a devil indeed in the viewing of my cry’s

Dreams
Of bloodied oiled bodies
A man riddled with sores
Oozing the cry’s
Of mad men sentenced to life
What a sickness inferno
Body’s twisted to nothing but flesh fragments
Scraped on the cliffs of a greater Everest
Men and women hurled indefinitely
Bones broken and powdered
With every cry of pulled apart flesh