The Maw

And it’s when you’re at

Your lowest point

They come 

These tendrils and shadows

Darker than the depths of the earth

And the farthest corner

Of a vast, starless galaxy

Feeding off the ebbs

Dormant until they can slide in

Many forms and figures

But more often than not

Worse

Than anything any human mind

Can conceive

They are the silhouette

Across a country road

Stalking you on the last stretch

Of whatever journey you’ve taken

These elves from the fold

Serve an ancient, rattling machine

Some nights they’ll scratch

At your bedroom door

Or suspend themselves

Above you, while you sleep

Ready to pounce

Crush your chest

And stare through your eyes

Right to the back of your skull

Your whimpering soul

They crawl along the floor

Like hideous toddlers

With too many limbs

Fading in and out

Fighting your dwindling sanity

Their faces contorted

Like Saturn

Devouring his Spawn

Flesh rippling over

Aeon-old muscle

And tendons pumping

As if powered by steam

They are the unwelcome wind

Screaming through your home

Merciless and unstoppable

Because they’ve played this game

Since long before you or I existed

And they will stay until the last of us

Takes his shallow,

Dying gurgle

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