Cerberus' tri-lapsing time,
wholly materializes at the everchanging
gate of hell's undisclosed location.
three-headed hound: one head looks backward,
one head looks downward, one head looks forward.
watchful as the white candles with black flames.
his constant chain reaction of biting mouthfuls
from a disassociated body--swept with unanimous
agonies.
then viciously going at his faces & necks.
all fours in a multidirectional trounce for potential
escapees.
there's a stench so piercingly foul that it can only be
registered between retches--yet Cerberus' six
nostrils relish it.
are adept at deciphering it from the condemned
that attempt to creep.
the electrically gruff boom of his bark staying their
torn feet.