I march through the woods, darkened by my hands.

Chained to others who are similarly damned.

The carrion call of flesh exhales out through morning mist.

The gallows drag us by its chained tongue tightened around our wrists. 

Mud spattered high on the imposing wooden frame. 

A reminder of the life I chose to take, what I became. 

I am to face the death deemed fit for my crimes. 

A bell toll of my end, crescendoing chimes. 

I stand shoulder to shoulder with men much safer than I. 

As they have not seen what I have seen with these cold dead eyes. 

The rope tightened around my neck feels oddly comforting in light of the blood on my hands. 

I lose this life happily knowing the things that breed beneath these lands. 

Anticipation is overflowing by the time I drop. 

But there is no neck snap, to lifeless flop. 

I hang in the air, by a rope that should have ended me. 

The crowd is in awe, begging for answers how this could be. 

They yell and proclaim, “The devil inhabits him, I have no doubt!’

Despite my current state I respond, 

“It’s not the devil you should be worried about.” 

Sacrifice is needed to slip beyond. 

“I killed not for the pleasure, but to get them to respond.” 

One scared woman asks, “Who?”

A rope digs in, despite it I struggle through. 

“Old things that live in older places.”

“They infest time and unknowable spaces.”

“To know them is to truly see the divine.” 

“Perfection is in their Aberrant thoughts and design.” 

With a final breath my soul leaves. 

But I stay aware of what the old ones use me to conceive. 

I am but a vessel for a beautiful thing. 

It rips its way from my abdomen, letting my viscera swing. 

Even through it all I remain to see beyond its birth. 

Using my meat as material, stitched flesh of worth. 

A beautiful cephalopodic something new. 

Rearranging ignorance like our flesh, into something true. 

Something so much more than me, more than you.

Muse upon sight

Laying on my back supine among the grass and rocks, I feel life give way to death every second. 

I look at the stars so impossibly far a mere shift in my weight may kill something that I did not acknowledge as there.

I lose myself within the sight of the turning black above my head, swimming in thoughts of what lies beyond any knowledge I could dig up. 

Would I or anyone understand the things that could be lurking beyond our minds capacity to replicate?

The disjointed pieces of flesh and bone, chitin and crystal, unknowns grafted to unknowns.

Eyes don’t come in rows, they come in waves, across inky nebulae and gas giants far from our sight.

We were made within this goldilocks zone of space. 

Not only was it just so perfect as to nurture life, but far enough away from the vast reaching horrors of the abyss that would sooner extinguish us with a simple shift of its weight.

Insignificance personified in every life brought crying into the world. 

Every belief that puts us at the center of some great plan.

We are merely a little thing upon a rock. Just so lucky that we didn’t get found yet.

I know the eyes I speak of. 

I see them in the sky when the stars flicker.

I can see the digits at the end of long chromatic tendrils that move through air as oil moves through water.

Splitting dimensions in two to feed on the sight of our fear; To feed on the bits of our flesh is hardly sustenance for the lesser of these beings. 

One million beings of unfathomable blight bring a soaring miasma across the cosmos, star to star; an exhalation of breath from a monumental titan of thought-twisting might.

As I lay here wondering about the coming jaws that have swallowed stars, crushed moons within their teeth. 

Do you worship such a thing, or fear it with every bit of your being? 

Do you end the life you hold sacred to forget the image of its sensory organs wrapping around earth, constricting and pulling apart cities without thought as it places it upon its tongue?

Not mere musings, I witness it in my dreams. 

Speaking to me in low grumbling tones of twelve planets grinding together within its throat.

I do not understand, nor would I define these things as words. More a horn of arrival, a thumping step of an idiot man walking across an ant hill. The precursor to something we can’t explain, for explaining it would kill us just the same.

I’ve seen white burning light from the cosmos—infinitely more consequential than anything tangible here—snuffed out in the abyss beyond thought.

We hurl towards the unthinkable maw of some great leviathan that drifts towards us in the dark, cold reaches of empty space.

I am excited to finally greet it.


My family wasn’t one to indulge in my life choices.
Within opulent halls that perfectly echoed crow calls,
I would steal out into the night.
Collecting teeth, body parts, ashes for one of the many voices.

I would sequester in my room during the day.
Fearing that the absence of my treasures would alter and sway without me to keep them safe from the cold dark violence.
I would consume out of compulsion, oddly not feeling anything linger on my conscience.

The halls of the manor echoed with fear as more and more of my family noticed my emotional and physical changes.
My increased reclusion became all the more normal as my outward appearance began one of its many rearranges.

My jaw would creak and crack as it seemed to separate from the muscles gifted by God.
My teeth felt sharper each day, grinding my lower lip bare.
My skin would stretch and tear, wrack my hands against the stone of these halls, not in pain but despair.

Despite my self-disgust, I continued to indulge in my fixation on the ingestion of human flesh.
It was getting to the point where the carrion I gathered would not placate or satiate it,
It would only drive me further towards the walking fresh.

Become one with the monstrosity I had sired within my skin.
Hunt the crimson life that walks ignorantly through the foggy streets,
Consume the flesh and all things therein.

This realization haunted me for a mere minute. Before I took to the town, bones shone and became apparent.

Breath after breath, the air marked my excitement.
The light mustn’t show my approach,
My disproportioned gate, misplaced joints.
I rushed through the streets like an otherworldly cockroach.

Fingernails ripe with dirt and decay,
I fell upon the scent that stuck with me, drew me closer, did not dissuade.
It was brilliant and bright. Citrus and clear.
The woman stood in the open air without knowledge of me there,
Ignorant to the fear.

A protracted arm reached through mist-filled air.
Fingers wrapping around the delicate waist, so unaware.
With a grip that dares to break her in two,
I pulled this feast into my serrated hug before even a slight scream would cut through.
I consumed my darling prey in the night,
Losing myself completely, no longer a wight.

I would consume the town and all therein.
Fuse the bodies and drape them over the house of mankind’s sin.
A chapel of abhorrence,
A dead city’s moan.
I became one with the beast within my bones.

Roots I

In a town dull and horrid,
In a house rotting and bloated,
Lived a man of no great worth.
Picture perfectly deep-rooted.
He lived his life within these same few walls,
Screaming in anger for them all to fall.
He would attempt to leave many times before the light touched his skin at all.
But it’s sad to say he was rooted to the dirt.
Roots made of flesh and bark ripping from this poor introvert.
They tore through the floorboards and sank into the earth,
Pulling him down into a type of reverse birth.
They pulled his organs down, his blood came too.
When the roots looked for his spine they found there to be nothing of value.
And so he went from man to mush.
Pulled in by roots, down to what I am sure hell constitutes.
With only an eye left to see, he breathed no more as he had no lungs free.
The roots had consumed him in this prison—His home.
And put all the pieces down below it all alone.

Calling me Home II

Collective rage,
Grafted to my living cage.
Millions of minds screaming for release,
Trapped somewhere between alive and deceased.

Moving through a mindscape of the unreal agony of a collective people,
Morphed into one to become a disgusting song, A cacophony of screams throughout this flesh steeple.
We are one with god—His thousand eyes and eldritch form.
We are the wave of nothing washing over our home,
We are the swarm.

A thousand years pass and I feel a pull.
I am we. We are whole.
A thousand years pass and I can feel my hands again,
Cytokenesis to begin.

I don’t hear all the screams,
My mind forms anew.
Dropped from a cosmic, gargantuan, living planets sinew.
A new body to call mine. A new otherworldly design.

The sky is undulating, bleeding oceans,
The ground racked with a low groan and rapid convulsions.

Tendrils made of man and woman burrow deep within this breathing new eden.
Trees of flesh and metal substance, shrouded by a living atmosphere of alien repugnance.

Sat before this infested new world, fist in alien dirt clenched and curled.

I feel the god we belong to let out a deep horrid sigh as it rearranges my chromosome.
As my skin begins to split and move, teeth and bone shift and improve.
I let out a cry not of my own, a plea to please return home.

Calling me Home I

I walk from my bed to the door.

One foot drags across the floor.

The door laughs at my forced smile as opening it takes me quite a while.

I walk through streets coated with rust.

Eyes in dark corners yearn for a dumb man’s trust.

I see the footprints I leave in the desiccated young returned to the Loam.

I hear the ones in the deep calling me home.

The earth burns and floods all at once.

A titanic hand reaches from between the fault lines to alter our continuance.

We prayed above for the god we knew,

But they did not answer before the ones below gathered us in a far-reaching slough.

They asked for subservience.

They asked for sacrifice.

The ones who did not go insane found paradise.

We killed and we burnt the world to the ground.

We led droves of people to the cataracts to drown.

As our bodies shifted and changed, as the gods invaded our chromosome,

We knelt in knee-deep muck to become one with our home

Abyss I

I walked the steps to Hell, 

Dark as night and deep as well.

With each step the steel adorned across my chest rang.

Echoing down the abyss, deeply they sang.

I knew the dark held evils within it,

But the beast I followed, and darkness it beget.

The light of my torch flickered and faded,

A cool ember mirroring me, languid.

This descent will destroy me, I am sure,

Teeth and claws I attempt to inure,

I fear only for my mind in this place.

For I faced it once, just a taste.

It crawled on all fours despite its upright appearance. 

Across its dozens of eyes manipulated a calm fluorescence.

It would shriek as if harmed across the flooded moors at night,

Drawing in the curious like some form of pseudoparasite.

Half sunk in the mud it would appear beautiful.

The colors shifting, its motives unfathomable.

Do not trust the nebulous guise.

For when you close distance, its eyes synchronize. 

Wrenched from the mud, limbs long and with purpose,

You’re pulled into the mouth where it hid below the mud’s surface.

Its hunger was not ever satiated.

It left a hundred or more lost and dessicated. 

Now I pursue this beast I fear to imagine.

It slunk its way deep below this castle’s abandoned cavern.

A grip on the hilt I feel my purpose,

As the otherworldly colors on my mind would gain purchase.

My armor would echo in the open chasm.

Its colors illuminating a sight most gruesome

The Knight

I want to describe the scene. It’s something I am sure you will struggle to believe.

It was a dark and stormy night

when the metal-coated knight drew steel across the hide of the hidden beast.

Behind thousands of veils, he did not breathe in the least.

His story started below the dirt. He stirred. Disturbed the worms,Their guts so full of his honorable flesh

Withered and stretched across yards of forsaken ground.

Desecrated and abused by weather, the dead surround.

The rain had churned up more and more bodies through the winter.

In the night the knight heard the screaming, feeding worms eating at the bits left on bone.

He sensed without sensory organs.

Pulled in breath after breath in fear without lungs to bare them.

He felt the familiar damp. The wrapping of leather protecting bits of flesh and bone from metal the rain had shone.

Lifted from his grave he reformed and mind joined with thoughts new

He was surely dead as dead could be. But breathed in as if he was as alive as you or me.

He remembered the fights, dark beasts and blights left imprinted into his memory.

It was all that was left of me.

The ground ripped open and forced me to my feet. The earth formed a mouth and spoke as my body wanted to retreat.

“Bare the blade you died to keep. Sleep no more, slay this reality before it wakes what lies in the deep.”

The cartilage of my decayed fingers gripped around sword so familiar. Glimpses of a face once mine now fell away to this great disfigure.

Nothing made sense to me. The ground was spinning like that of a kaleidoscope. The trees started to speak of the beast that chose to interlope.

A mouth made of mouths and teeth of fingers sharpened to a point.

Bathed in the blood of reality and merged with the dead it chose to anoint.

I was disgraced to its millions of eyes- floating as orbs, illuminating new lies

seemingly altering the velocity of rain as it fell past their gaze.

With a yawn, its maw opened to pull me into its mental maze.

The abyss was infinite, formless and rigid to light.

It made little sense to scream as it took the first bite.

I spent night after night in the infinite.

A screaming aberration of reality limited, it fought to keep me down.

In its maze I felt my flaws pulse and push from my flesh. I watched my blood run from a dead dull brown to a deep red.

Gripping steel I could feel each gulp and contraction of the gore that trapped me within it.

I slept through the worst of what beget it.

It felt like always before my unlife ended within the beast.

My steel, compelled to feast, stabs in the dark so bleak.

Well past knee-deep, it starts.

I’m laughing, screaming my ears apart. Blood filling my lungs, feeling my heart start.

Spat out into a world less distorted than before.

A new world that was birthed from the gore.

One with less nights filled with undead knights.

Less fights and beasts that feed in the firelight.

No nightmares anymore.

With a sigh of pain I release my grip on the sword I swore to hold.

Let the dirt take me back to where I began, feeling feelings like never before, feeling…cold.