I was buried fifteen years ago.
During that ferocious Harmattan-
And the call of Beelzebub's ban.
How I baked beneath the Earth!
And went for days, famished and unfed.
Now I start to understand
That there are more souls at the devil's bail
Than at Heaven's command-
When I stared at Lucifer in the eyes
I saw the dark joy in his smiles:
Then he took my putrefying hands,
Kissed them and whispered through his fangs:
'''Homines perfectionis perdidisse
In caelo non sunt reversi.
Isque, si eorum peccatis,
Non erit hic spatium
quia in novissimis temporibus.
Quam luctus in caelum!'''
And as the worms dropped from my chest
And the flesh burnt like pest
I felt within me that emptiness and cold
As a power seized my quakery soul.