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Candle-lit shadows, flickering forms
Paint the walls in my manor forlorn
Psychadelic mushrooms taken with wine
Reading pulps by the fire reclined.

Thunder strikes a distant chord
Wind whips the candelabra
In the dark his presence looms
Eldritch, perverse, macabre.

A gaunt, pale form emerged
Mad with fright I laughed
Before me standing in spectral splendour
Was the spirit of Howard Lovecraft!

Silently he judged me
As I sat aghast
Then he haunted my head with horrors
From starry aeons vast.

After laying in a coma for days
I awakened from that feverish haze
Bloody, naked as the day I was born
My precious first editions scattered & torn.

He is not dead who eternal Lies!

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