The Second Circle

There is a whirling dervish of- cries, screams, and misery. This swirling cauldron is filled with- sorrow, hopelessness, and perfuse bleeding. These ingredients blend into a virulent brew- of perfect despair. It is a true carnival of souls. Souls trapped in a pit of unending suffering. They churn and turn in endless loops, never to escape this. The sound fills ones being with fear and dread, of the dead. It penetrates and resonates within me, haunting me. It is all just a bad dream, a midnight terror. I can not seem to wake up from this.