Aye, darkness has its own perverted beauty
  as my naked vein crossed scars in truth allude.
Belial blackness grips my soul for booty
  and raven lust the black does not occlude.

The hallways of the damned now feel my foot falls
  as the boredom and the pain, both beg "lasts rites".
"No Exit" is the epithet on these walls
  surely no one warm to see me through the nights.

So slogging on, desires run unabated
  frustrations on the heels of every want.
The fishhooks in my flesh will not be sated
  making me a puppet idiot savant.

In tortured acquiescence I succumb to
  forces driving cartoon animated hell.
The which of what and where, I have no clue
  since I'm only writhing here for the bell.