A Different Kind of Hell

there are no different kinds really.
Hell is hell.
There's no choice within that...

I picked up Constantine on the shelves the other night.
Just had to see "hell" again.

One of the makers, says, the winged demons, from hell, have no legs, their bodies swing and twists about when they fly on those huge wings.
The trouble with beasts without legs is that they could never land.
The inspiration came from a time when he was at a bar in Yugoslavia. How exotic!
The liquor was offered on stemmed glassware, with the stems broken off....so you have to finish your drink, before you could put it down, otherwise you lose the rest of your drink, it spills everywhere...
That! is a different kind of pain in itself!

So many times we wish we have wings so we can soar in the skies. The closest physical state with which we relate with our ideals of freedom.
But imagine, that you have to soar in the skies forever, never being able to land.
Hell is really torture...

Morning Poem

By myself.
Warmth feeding through the fan.
I cling on to the wet towel.
Digging my nose into the damp scent.

Childlike. Bunched.

Morning hair. Drips.
Still.
No more shivers.
I have lost my way.

Soul dictated by dreams.
When dreams are dead.

Only heat, holds me...