Happy Halloween, FUCKERS Pt. 3

FROM DRY GRAY ABODE, SWIMMING THROUGH BOXULAR ENCLOSED SEA OF OPIATE AND PERFUME FROM BEYOND SPACE AND TIME, I STARE AT PASSING EMPTINESS, GAP BETWEEN WORLD AND STARS. PASSING ENDLESS TIME COUNTING PASSING CHILDREN OF WANDERERS OF THE VOID, FROM FRAME-LESS VISTA GIVEN TO ME BY MINE DRIFTING HOVEL, FIE! SPIED OVER HORIZON OF ORTHOGONAL CRAGGED CITY-SCAPE 'TIS CHAOS' CORE - NUCLEUS THE OF UNIVERSE.

UNSPEAKABLE NAMED THROBBING MASS, PUSTULED AND BETENTACLED CLOT OF RUTTED FLESH AND GNASHING MAWS KNOWN AS DAEMON-SULTAN, THE BLIND IDIOT GOD RESTS - LULLED BY DISTANT SAVAGE DRUM AND THIN WHINING FROM GODLY WOODWIND. AS THRONGS OF ALIEN SENSUALITY DANCE AROUND HIM IN NEVER-ENDING CIRCUMFERENCE FOR HIS UNCONSCIOUS PLEASURE, SWEAT BEADS FROM THE HEADS OF THE SULTAN'S ALIENIGENATE BAND - AS SOUR NOTE OR ILL-TIMED THUD WOULD ROUSE HIS INFINITE POWER, AND MINUSCULE INTELLECT, BENT ONLY FOR DESTRUCTION!

HIS WAKING WOULD CHASE WONDER AND DREAM FROM THE MINDS OF MAN AND BEAST, STRIP WORLDS OF THEIR MANTLE OF BEAUTY, GAG POETS FROM PONTIFICATING PHANTASM - LEAVING EVERYTHING AS DRY AND BEREFT AS YOUR NARRATOR'S HUMBLE DEN. EVERYTHING KEPT IN BALANCE FROM ENDLESS ARTFUL LABOR, WHEN OBSERVING HIS HEART OF THE VOID - REMEMBER NEVER TO SPEAK THE NAME OF AZATHOTH!

Azathoth and his alienigenate band.