The Hellhounds

Heavy gasps of air scrape the sick yellow walls,
A dark room filled with rusty weights and chains.
As my mind is blinded with a frenzied haze;
I tremble; a scene of hell stands before my gaze.

Khaki specters stand watch amidst the twilight,
Before a dim light stands a flower of shadows:
Swirling endlessly, prideful of their blight;
Heart-tearing screams echo through the night.

A cursed pilgrimage; various beasts blindly cry and shout,
All chained together, leads one hellhound this march:
With a long pelt coiled up on ends, of all life spent;
From its pouch spill its guts, infected with rotten regret.

I watch the following abominations, these hellhounds;
Of which I have known, still know; and will have known.
As one dies, another rises from its corpse; equally hideous,
The scent of a sinner brings them to their senses.

Accursed steps make their way towards here,
With all intention of swallowing me whole.
Yet, their pleading barks say otherwise,
All the while I have ended this charade, you see;
As vengeful howls turn to bitter cries over my lifeless eyes.