Poems...

Haven of sin, suffering, and pain.
They don't care about death,
About the will of the dead.
And somewhere in the cells,
There is no peace
For the unfortunate creatures,
Spitting blood.

They just laugh,
Lowering the lever,
Releasing hungry dogs
From a long chain.

And what remains
For them in this smoky world,
Which will instantly dissipate,
Like a cloud of dust,
Because if you shake it a little -
Goodbye, loved ones,
Hello, our path!

The path of grayness, blackness,
Of angles, singularities...
Of chaos, heresy,
Of dirt and weakness.

No one knows,
What is hidden beyond the edge,
Perhaps it is space,
Or perhaps a wall,
Standing monolithic and strong.

But while the fires of Hell shine,
People burn together with the underworld.
But since there is a God -
Then there must be vice,
And a malicious vice -
Is a mess, disgusting,
So that the soul remembers it -
Inferno is a great lesson.

As you can see, this approach is very humane,
After all, it is God's Will...
...However, this method is a little unclear,
And it looks more like a dark sadism,
To which Will is just an euphemism.

In essence, friend, there is a factor at play here,
The very one that binds the flaws of consciousness,
At least somehow protecting the Universe from the insane.

But even if there were a thousand Hells,
A million underworlds, devouring monsters,
Our world is doomed, there is no doubt,
The question is only when, and with what humiliation.