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spiraling out of control

Where his unholy torment may be a testament to his wreched life and wicked ways. his skin flayed and viscera scattered about, he will weep and cry but it will only bolster the resolve of his tormenters, for they hate him. he will know what true fear and pain is, but it will be no solace for there will be no end and no escape. his eternity will be soured with an anguish like one could never imagine. his skin will crack like desert soil, and his veins will bleed like the tigris and euphrates, but never enough to quench the thirst of his abusers. hell is now as hell will always be, has always has been, but the fear bleeding into his eyes, his scent, and his resolve is a new heaven to me.