The Web

My hand turns the knob as my foot slips past the door,
A trumpeted creak flashes through the shadowed hall.
The path to escape is mired in a tired retribution,
An army of roaches emanates from cracks in the wall.
Between the lines of concubines and sinners I stand,
Unsure if either could embrace me with my shameful gait.
The darkness covers only half of their faces,
But even from one eye I feel burning, ceaseless hate.
Many times have I felt the horrific and the strange,
Confusing what is real from endless visions of hell.
The light dissipates as I search for the door,
Until touched by the fire that only dealers can sell.
Trapped in its deranged web, I am without an exit,
My only companion a phantasm with a bum hip.
He speaks to me but utters not a single word,
From a faucet down the hall water intermittently drips.
Its lack of consistency pushes me to the brink,
Its sound a death knell for my ghostly companion.
I am losing the battle, the struggle too great,
The original sin was rejecting God's ultimate creation.
Soon I may be joining my mentor in this unholy cell,
Just another lost soul sharing in eternal damnation.