hail me

I inhale,

and like virgil, in jest,

I say “hail to the king of Hell”

every god in my world is a corpse

and I am the only source of truth I care about

putting on the divine throne

every sin legitimized,

no longer righteous,

but righteousness wasn’t worth anything,

and the world was burning on the morning of my birth,

as above, so below,

heavens on fire.

my house is built on pride and wrath,

when my virtues left me to die,

my vices kept me alive.

funny to think

I could eat my own art,

to get free salvation.

I can!

by: eli z.g.

date: 2022