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Poem

I had not the mind to tarry long here,
Like the Deep Ones it is an endless existence.
Where within the bowels of debauchery and broken dreams.
It swells like Arkham’s crowded streets - a foul and smelling thing. 

I tell of terrors so horrendous that I would be likened to the Mad Arab!
Before me shapes of unimaginable size and complexities
The grinding gears of shiny movable objects so absurd as to twist the very
Cool of mind to do some drug, alas yes perhaps you think me doing so.

No mushrooms or DMT, but visions in a loathsome cry inside of me.
So real in waking life in isolation, quite possibly a manifestation
So somber is my spirit here their faces, many eyes I fear.
The horror is inside my skin like Yiths I feel those thoughts begin.

I felt as if they spoke of me, the voice of my anxiety.
No mortal yet has described it so perfected as I, my tormented mind.
The Dankness that surrounds my soul is ever present
Accursed for all recorded time, is mine, this Antediluvian rhyme.
I long for sweet release from this; abomination that is this:

My Xenophobic tendency~
            So back in Boston’s where I’ll be.

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