Purgatory

Hell is not a location,

rather its a lack of place,

a hollowed world of dark space.

Spirits no more alive than an embryo,

absent to occupy nothingness, for foreverness.

They animate bodies, roaming and broken,

spend decades, lifetimes and generations of thought;

planning your coincidence, desire and accidents,

to build their darkness in you.

Cracked into the weakest of human, the softest of DNA—

the addicted towards, and the blackedout to,

all the time and effort, just for you.

Hell is not a place,

no fired chambers mankind paints.

And if you let it,

the occupants of nothingness,

will become somethingness, in you.

These Indefinite Spirit Spectators,

will enter you,

take over you,

become you;

and belong to them,

will you?