hell is a reward for a life half lived, heaven is reserved for those who could muster enough to crawl across the finish line

an amateur demonologist with a minor in third degree burns studying the affect of cages and hearts on tempered urges

death is for the living while dying is sport for some, trophy hunting for another beast to mount and show off dull glass masculinity

swimming through shark infested waters with a barrel of toxic waste beneath each arm, floatation devices for the mentally deficient

eternal rewards like scratch off tickets, scab collections, broken heart donors, the fraternal order of narcissistic meanderings and bare chested heathens

if hell is a reward for a life of inaction, heaven is for the ones that never stopped to think about the cost of their actions nor the price of admission

all around the mulberry bush, the painter chased the easel, the angels laughed to see such sport, his heart beat like a rabid weasel

damnation, salvation, temptation, elation, the only difference is in the eye of the beholden, the only cost is everything you hold dear

spare two coins for a downtrodden soul lost on the banks of nevermind and everlost, seeking one golden ticket of sinful regret

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