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Something large is coming, stirring within your bowels. Clawing at its confines, endeavoring to promulgate its stems. Something red is tapping upon your nervous petioles, whispering 'Dante...'; echoes, unfurling your sanity's hem. Clawing at its confines, stirring within your bowels. It's turning within your breadbasket, complicitously gnawing. You call to the moon; a flurry of fervent howls. A gushing stream of vile poison shall cascade pouring. [ Back to "Dark, Horror Poems" page ] |
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