Poem: The Plutonian Shore

There are only two people around the world.

Those in the Realm of Light and Dark.

Those who bath into the realm of light.

They lift there glass of wine,

as they dine,

and whine at the screams and moans

of those who squirm in agony

as they wander in tragedy

into the journey as they embark

into the dark.

The Dark is a dismal and yet moist world.

The Seven Sins,

even some who will win the ranks

along the River Styx' Banks.

The Plutonian Shore,

The Broken Glass Mountains,

and Demon-faced Fountains along the Plutonian Shore.

It plucked my lost Lenore

off of the Black-Velvet Sand,

or Powdered Darkness,

along the Blue Paint Waters.

Bones litter the land,

along the Black-velvet Sand,

or Powdered Darkness,

or as far as

I can see

All along the Plutonian Shore.

Angels can be seen at a distance along the Glass Mountains,

Bound by a Silver Umbilicus,

Anchored to the Blue-Violet Ocean by their own Anguish.

Nothing like Fallen Angels weeping along

The Plutonian Shore.

Nothing Like bleeding eyes

as a hellish surprised.

The Devil won a Prize.

The Bleeding Eyes of Angel's scorn

On the Plutonian Shore.