Tartarus

This hell, this Tartarus,
Stretching from here to Gods know where;
Bleached bones upon the plain,
Picked clean by carrion birds -
Oh Gods! What have I done
That this should be my abode?
An ancient road, cracked and dry,
Runs off into the distance,
Whence horned devils fly,
Cackling and cursing in their guttural speech.
I cannot eat or sleep,
Yet neither can I die.
An eternity of torment
Awaits me ‘neath this bloodshot sky.
My body sags, and still I drag it on:
No plan,
But only to escape this cursed place;
Yet when I look up from the dust
My futile efforts raised,
I’m back where I began.

-Victor Van Brandt