EPT![[image loading]](http://op-for.com/attention20whore3lm9.jpg)
The Suffering of Atlas
He's supporting the firmament, limbs locked in place,
Sweat and snowmelt eroding the remnants of grace.
But the burden is only a part of his curse,
And the other is rather the worse.
Not as Tantalus, parched to the loss of his speech,
Not as Sisyphus, stymied with summit in reach,
No, a memory's ember in vengeance enjoins
A vestigial lust in his loins.
Decades flow into centuries, heavens still press.
Lacking stimuli, even the Titans regress.
In his lonesome torment, he no longer recalls
Aught but pain and cerulean balls.
(He'd be promptly jerked off by Invisible Hand
Had he lived in the heyday of Rand).
