[Suzerain of Sheol]

Ah, found it. This is the prose poem I meant to post above.

Savor This

What is left, when the divide grows so vast, that we forget there is another side? An island here, in cold gloaming, drifting among the ravages, out of sight of the only shore I seek. I did not notice at first, but the air is foul, and there are cankers on my hands. I leave a mottled trail as I walk within my little circle, molting to the fire. It seems it has always been thus.

At first, I would grasp, blind without the light I have shed, but there is no purchase here, only the distant drone of hungers unfed. I cannot see the scars for the scales bequeathed my skin. I am... fulfilled, the sovereign of my own isolate realm, with only the wind, singing the rumor of Hell, to observe my reign.

Something crawls in the abyss below, but it cannot reach me. Not yet.