Spiders of guilt scurried up my spine
And settled into my heart to feed upon me,
Reminding me of my trysts with Sin.
A life decorated with martinis and guns,
Regular treat of slit throats;
Surrounded by nymphets and sylphs,
Plunging hearts like delicacy.
Sybarite, I was, a lover of fun
Well-known bleak dire scallywag;
Red painted days and nights
Spent in nefarious court of Crime.
Pulverizing in austere gaze of Death,
Hallucinations of my abominable past-
Help the arachnids to delve insanely deep
Annihilating my repenting soul,
Guiding it to the doors of Hell.- Vaisakhi Mishra