We step through the entrance,
And within seconds,
We are welcomed with iniquitous grins
To a place where men go to smile upon death.
Strawberry syrup splatters the partitions slick
Like the oil tapestry of a deranged artist.
Polished blades pierce the wall
Holding disembodied hands high waving, “Hello!”
The second thing we observe
Is a soldier laughing in a prison of red brick.
He weeps to us a deal for release,
But we cannot acquiesce.
Next, a woman supine in bed.
She’s bound at the hands and ankles,
And she screams a tormented ululation.
Her face perverted with cold-blooded rage.
A phantom emerges from the inky black shadows
Sick with insidious intentions.
His deep, heavy breaths
Turn sour with a depraved, yet welcoming smile.
Around the corner, shimmering threads
Of a spider’s web hang from the ceiling.
They softly tickle my neck
As I pass the silky nylon strands.
In another dimly lit chamber,
A man is chained to a lightning machine.
Electricity burns, and soon a
Silvery scentless smoke permeates the corridor.
I tell myself
“This is no place to fear.
It’s all a mirage—
A pretend world to escape.”
Still, I am horrified,
But not because of what we see.
It’s the world that created this place,
The ideas born from a man’s delicious imagination.
Now, beyond the perilous passageway,
We see the exit to safety.
It’s not a long journey,
Yet too long for us.
The last thirty feet
Tells a tale of seven sins.
Each fatality a warning
To anyone who dares to tread.
At last, we step into the frigid night.
She releases her painful grip on my arm,
And I breathe a relaxed sigh.
Wait! — A butcher attacks with a chainsaw.
There’s a deafening buzz
Of its dangerous blades,
But he soon relents, and peace returns
To this night of man’s malevolent dreams