TRYST WITH SIN

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