The Wicked - Riddles Without Answers & Celestial Mechanics

I'm floating. It is very dark and it's very cold. Or it could be hot, I'm not absolutely positive about that. I can't see. I can't hear. I don't feel anything. I don't believe this to be hell. I just don't. They come to me at times. They come in ones or twos, or in multitudes I cannot comprehend. Sometimes they're so small they crawl into mouth and my nostrils. Sometimes they're bigger than the sky. Such as I remember it. The sky that is. But sometimes... Sometimes they look just like you and me. And that's really the worst part. And they start cutting into my flesh. Sometimes I dream of hallways. Here, in the emptiness it probably is the only thing soothing me. Sometimes I'm visited by the paper men. I never knew you could feel your soul. But when they took it from me I felt utterly cold and alone. Even more so than before. After an unknown amount of time had passed they brought it back to me. I wept. It was cauterized back in place. But it wasn't the same. They put it there inside-out. I could feel it. Just when I thought that I'd endured it all. That they'd run out of horrible things to do to me, they started working on my mind.