(Polunin inspired also)

 Both dancers in the dark, like dented souls that never had seen each other become one at the first glimpse. 

Those words like a homeopathic drug, every day, a little bit of the old stinky venom, from the womb to the tomb. 

That bell like a ticking bomb on the brain for whom it tolls

The hell like dante's inferno, no fire nor water, just nothing rolls.