Charlie, Part 2: To Hell

His journey begun much like any other one, just a regular trip through the trees.        
He hopped and he skipped whistling riddles and quips as he recited aloud poetry.  
The pathway made turns over hills and through curves, the foliage grew gradually dense.        
His excursion extended feeling rather unending into the woods now indefinitely immense.
         
The thickets and the brush covered thickly and lush as branches and leaves hung in drapes,        
While sunshine was gleaming reflecting serenely a mystic, mysterious scape.        
As the breeze blew him kisses Charlie carefully listened, for subtlety spoke in the distance        
What was it saying? Where was it from? It would beckon his attentive remittance.        
         
Charlie felt reality        
Exchange place with a dream,        
That beamed in brilliance or so it’d seem.        
         
Pastels illuminated beyond the trees,        
Who would whisper words of life or what it means        
To be alive        
And being free.        
His feet carried in a beat        
Worn and weary, needing rest,        
but compulsion married interest of this place.        
         
So he sought, not knowing what exactly he had want,        
But to satisfy a sullen sense of awe;        
Of luscious greens        
To dreary leaves        
As oaks spoke in grievous tones        
Mourning those who’d passed before        
With forewarning moans exhorting ‘go-back-homes’.        
         
This verdant scene once brimming with      
such inviolability,        
Had capitulated so intimately             
With rotting pleas     
Of decaying trees        
As they creaked and crashed in an oily splash   
Exuding ink calignous in it's mass
   
And in capriciousness it reached and grabbed,        
Nabbing at the setting sun.        
And with its grip it dragged it low,        
To absorb its essence from it’s glow,        
Nourishing incognizant ire        
Of a murky blackness,        
The Nightmare’s Mire.        
         
Then a calm came breezing in,          
The air weighed heavy as        
A shadow came which aimed
To swallow Charlie in it's grasp.       
At first it felt he had drowned in tar        
Until he plunged down even further.        
He felt his body falling even faster,        
Or sinking, floating? What does it matter? 
 
What felt like hours        
Charlie finally roused at last        
To see exactly ‘where’ he had transpired.        
Though not an expert by any means,        
It seems he has come to be        
In the presence of a sentient being.        
         
Somehow he ended beyond the stars,        
Dragged yonder farther past the edge        
Now face to face with a monstrous phage        
As aggressive as the universe big.        
         
Like a shipwreck stranded out at sea,        
He was at the mercy of this beast;        
An amalgamation of epic dimensions        
Between cosmic thunderstorms and tsunamis.  
      
It lashed with thoughts most perturbing,          
With attacks aimed at his psyche.        
Him disturbed by a blight most uninviting,        
By this behemoth eater,          
The feaster of
All forms of brain activities.        
         
His head kicked and stabbed with an intensity        
Of pain deemed unendurable,        
And by duress he had succumbed to death        
By mental pangs beyond incurable.        
 
...         
Charlie has arrived to a very special place          
Where all lost souls must come to wait.        
There was no time,        
There was no date,        
Just his fate…        
And a voice…        
Whispering in the distance…        
         
That        
Was        
Always        
Singing.        
         
Soft        
Interludes        
Left        
Each        
Note        
Conscientiously        
Evoked.        
         
Who        
Has        
Obtest?        
         
Speak        
Please,        
Oh        
Known        
Essence.        
         
And then…        
Charlie awoke.