Hell

Whispered words like static
Barely heard
Silent noise in the back of our heads
Barely noticed

For a single purpose, which
Nobody knows
We go to hell each day
Burned by the fires of hell yet unscathed.

Hellfire not the sole torment
But screams and painful wails
Of those who fail
And those who die

Between unlife and hell, there is
No choice
To make
For me

Unlife and hell
One and the same, demons
Lie in wait. For the unwary
Accustomed to heat, not sound nor pain

Yet Hell's heat scorches
The palms of working hands, frantically
Writing for hard taskmasters
Who do not forgive nor forget.

So every day, I go to Hell
Walk numbly through scorching flame
And come back alive
But dead, in a certain way.