Motherfucking Metrics (with an Ugly Bird Cameo)

So.  Hell.  Sky the color of very old coffee, fading to the green of an olive taking mold.  No moon, no stars, no sun, just a cochineal sort of effulgence ringing the horizon.  Wind in fits, sky full of great winged ugly birds and fast little hell swallows.  A few scraggly suicide trees and some disreputable pomegranates clinging to the rocks.  Asphodels and black-speckled poppies, aloe, saw grass; the ocean in hell is more like a bayou, dank and green and stinking, full of deep-rooted mangroves and fiendish little crabs, blood red and vein blue.  Corpse candles and fires springing from the water.  Souls floating like forlorn, fist sized fireflies, beating like hearts.

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