Waves roar and roll overhead, crashing against an unseen surface of blackness above me. The noise building to a crescendo of primal fury as I sink, deeper and further down to the depths.
The white noise of chaos fills my ears and mouth, polluting my lungs and mind with the visions of below, the bottomless and fetid dark, thick like a mire of despair.
I see it, eyes hungry with tendrils of anguish lunging for my mind. It lashes out and takes my hand, pulling me deep into the dark.
Eyes.
Everywhere is eyes.
He sees it all.
He controls the chaos.
He is coming.
ВИ ЧИТАЄТЕ
From below
ПоезіяA prose poem based on the works of H P Lovecraft, exploring the feeling of cosmic horror.
