Tartarus On Earth

The bitterness lays

Like a thick blanket

Of hot pale ash

Upon my soul

After a dream's death.

 

Acrid smell of burning flesh

Awakes me

From the walking dead

While I move

Aimlessly

Across the valley.

 

As I stumble

Over the burnt bodies

Of those

Who have given up

Accepting Death's offer

Of a final rest.

 

Some

Are frozen

In the most grotesque manner

Imaginable.

 

Holding up

Their children

In the hope

Of sparing them

For not.

 

But this

It was nothing

To me

As my sense are

Already dead.

 

Having died

After the first ash flake

Had landed on me.

 

Now

I seek release

From this apocalytical Hell

Which I find myself

Trapped in.

 

To feel Death's

Healing embrace

One last time.

Author's Note

Originally written, July 18, 2014.