(Painter: Unknown)
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The clock ticked through his chambers.
Dreams had soiled his dear bed.
He had not yet known her so-
To him, her legacy, dead
and he knew not partition
which had banished the Salem
and vanquished the hungry stead,
but, like a plump pumpkin's head,
she called forth invocations
of prosperity, not dread,
but through the walls, we heard calls
of strangers we had gathered.
Go now! Go now! We fell short
and the Faceless began to
breathe over the land as she,
through the drowning woodlands, seeds.
YOU ARE READING
Incoherent Poetry from the Depths
Horror(The painting in the cover is by painter Nicola Samori) Do y'ever just wish to feel the chills of the ethereal down your spine? Have you wondered what life is like outside your material universe? Did you ever posit the idea, that a good bout of uns...
