Behold!
Where is it no mortal soul fathoms to dare?
The foretold detestable dunes of despair!
Whose sands of crystalline luminescence
Drown and drain thy essence.
Far within that redolent tomb
Hidden deeper inside the heavens moon,
Where the souls of the damned unwillingly swoon
Slaves to the sin that fathered their doom.
Where thou art subject to phantom pains
Orchestrated by the Litch who reigns
Without delay upon his frozen throne of ice
Whose subjects lament in the decay
of blood maggots and eerie lice.
Categories:
litch, angst, death, eulogy, fantasy,
Form: Narrative
Laid naked and bare,
Dilapidated beyond repair,
Deeper within the dark bowels of ruined Ultair,
Whose ruler is a Litch,
A city rises from a darken phosphorous pitch
of shadows and mists of unhallowed portraiture
whose sights are akin to visual torture.
Where evils forgotten lie in one's peripheral,
perpetuating fears begotten and ethereal.
Do not fret and be a fool.
Lest you forget what may beguile.
For what dwells here, of those curious shall lure;
Creatures whose countenance spell the very essence of fear,
whose residence unwillingly endure.
However, so I say, you would be wise to obey,
To never venture into the night,
of this foul blight,
not a city.
Wherein darkness consumes the most radiant of light without pity.
Categories:
litch, adventure, angst, city, death,
Form: Narrative