Sunday 13 June 2021

The Writhing Nightmare

by Nick Gisburne

Repulsive undulations, smooth and slick
Crescendo as the writhing nightmare nears
The deviance of every rhythmic click
Intensifies the fever of my fears
I dream my reckless probing had been curbed
But wishes will not fix a fool’s mistake
This ancient temple, hidden, undisturbed
Enticed me to a crypt, beneath the lake
Upon a heathen altar, black as jet
A sacrilege, a creature, cracked and dry
Perhaps it felt my heat, perhaps my sweat
I found the spark of evil in its eye
    Bewildered, lost, my senses must submit
    I know my fate, for I awakened it