I have sold my soul to the devil, countless times.
Each opportunity to buy it back, he makes an offer anew.
Each offer a woman.
I read the fine print, understand the interest, weigh my eternal against the moment and I ink the dotted line. Signed, sealed fate.
Each new temptress that tickles a budding fancy or soothes an old wound. Each painted demon a reflection of some unrealized base hunger or tinder for a dying fire within. Entranced by the slick and come hither and the giggle and the sorcery, dark and unrepentant.
Down the labyrinth of acts and indecencies and fucking obscenities. Full consummation of all my earthy being, left but a husk of what stood at a man. Willingly.
A faint cacophony of fiendish laughter from the lips of the fallen angel before me and the fallen prince below.
My soul, damned again.