Sold Out Souls Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Closer moving towards,
An applied and intense...
Searing heat.
Sold out souls dig.
The digging themselves deeper,
Into darkened holes.
Dismissing to believe,
A living hell is just a myth.
And far fetched from reality.
Trusting Lucifer awaits for their arrival.
With open arms approving of their misdeeds.
Offering them duplex suites.
Daily floral arrangements.
And beds with custom made silk sheets.
Sharing a brotherhood in togetherness,
As cool dudes.
Sipping on Long Island ice tea.
Or smoothies...
Forever.

"Come on. We're almost there.
What are you doing? "

Looking over the brochure we were sent.
The place looks fantastic.
I can't wait to soak in the entire view,
From our balconies overlooking it.

"We are almost there.
The anticipation is killing me."

We will be there forever.
What's the rush?