Satanism isn’t for everyone.
It was after a night of absinthe induced paranoia and crack cocaine withdrawals, I’d imagined a bitter end to a miserable life.
A waste of space, air, and matter.
I saw the devil, lurking over me; “Take me away, Satan”.
“Uhh…this one seems conscious, we’re gonna need some medics back here”.
It was not the devil himself, but his minions — Emergency Responders.
They were wearing a Red Cross; though it wasn’t upside down, but rather evenly spread across — like a PLUS (+) sign.
They strapped my body, to what I assumed would be the torcher chamber.
They started to unload mysterious chemicals into my body, with the use of needles attached through little tiny translucent plastic tubes.
I dazed, wanderer — “Oh Satan, Oh Satan; I feel thy fury”.
The burning temptation to tear the tubes away, but gravity wouldn’t let me.
I passaged away, on this long awaited journey; arriving at the gates of hell.
Or otherwise known as the St. Victoria Emergency Unit.
Or as I call it…Satan’s Prey.