The day finds its demise,
Tossing and turning,
My rest is interrupted by eldritch fingers,
Emanating a foul energy,
Tentacles in my mind,
I dream of fathoms deep,
To airless environs,
Where even fish dare not venture,
Waters claimed by spectres and arcane chants,
Where the sun and sanity both drown,
Something stirs,
Eyeing the surface with a million oculi,
A million definitions of mad hunger,
Watching a world it seeks to extinguish,
A million maws curling into grins.
WorldofHarley 