 Ia [12-17-01]Even in the quiet moments,They can paralyze. Just beyond the mesh of rhythm squirming through the mind there lies a darker river. Some sad, paradoxic dream that spirals down the throat of worm-like dredges. Darker streams have never yet been fathomed. The Old Ones cluster there, far beyond the tissue, through the mouth of disrepair, where skin hangs low like drap'ry, panic worms inside the eyes. None can flounder backward - The Old Ones drink their cries of desperation, tortured by the dark silence Within. Travel down Their river, here the soft echo begin to force feet backward, undertow caressing in its pull. Eternally invaded, breakers splash against the skull... The river pours its terror dark the farther down it goes. The Ancient drink a darker dirge; They suffocate the soul. + Back to Menu |