It arose from the larger vug most brittle,
A grey amassing mound of bubbling ichor.
Exuding unctuous spindles of fetid spittle,
Into writhing piles of ungodly horror.

Bursting holes cascade into streams of miasma,
That cackle insanely in wry defiance,
Spewing wretched effluviums of nausea
The monstrosity proclaims its self-reliance.

You have called me out, afar from the distant past,
Through screaming rages of displaced time and space,
For eternal nights I wait for someone to cast
The philtre of Ghroth upon my eyeless face.

© 1997 James Gruetzmacher

First Appearance: Mythos Online #6
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