Hell
It is not like the stories.
It is not fire and brimstone
and burning flesh.
It is not cold, dank depths.
Endless darkness.
Endless terror.
It is not what you thought.
It is a warm room,
your favourite room.
You sit between all the ones you love,
touch their flesh
and they will touch back.
You can talk and laugh,
it is always light,
it is always warm
and you are never, ever tired.
It is not what you thought.
Time doesn’t move slowly,
or quickly,
or at all it seems.
You do not change.
Your lover never leaves.
Your mother always smiles.
But somewhere,
it could be years
or a few minutes
into that warmth,
somewhere you start to wonder.
It could be fast,
like blinking while the light changes.
It could be a like a stone hitting your back.
Or it could be like poison.
Slowly, so slowly you do not remember
when you first notice,
everyone begins to repeat themselves.
Not like playback, not like puppets,
but like a child who has not read past the first chapter
of a book you wrote.
And they are all agreeing with you,
all the time.
You may try to test this-
shout obscenities and curses-
but they will only smile.
It is not what you thought.
There is warmth here,
and you are never tired,
but those around you have no depth
and you cannot leave
or sleep
or hide.
A smile is a smile is a smile,
is now just lips pulled over teeth.
You may try slap it from their faces,
the faces you love,
but they will only laugh.
Finally, you are in a world
where everything is comfort and safety,
and a friend who always laughs,
and a lover who will never leave you,
and a mother who is always smiling
but are they happy?
Can it be love if they have no other option?
No option
no standard
no meaning.
It is not what you thought.
It is not hot iron,
burning flesh.
It is the ache of never knowing,
of endless doubt in those around you,
the ones you love most.
It is your fear,
and your love for them,
and the emptiness of their servitude.
It is not what you thought.
The room will always be warm,
they will always smile,
and you will spend forever wondering;
can it be real
can it be good
if it never ends?