by Nick Gisburne
For you, the seeker, shadows stand revealed,
The secrets of the dark, the damned, the dead.
The pricking of a thumb, by stealth concealed,
Untwists the charm, its malice fired and fed.
One drop, one bead of blood from mortal man,
One crimson pearl to permeate the page,
Reanimates the primitive, the plan,
Appalling scriptures from a fallen age.
A hush, a silent fear to freeze your flesh.
Embrace it. Stronger minds, insane, have died.
Your soul, in flux, in torment, fades. Let fresh,
Exotic, nameless nightmares be your guide.
Find evil in the pages of the book,
As Fanny Cradock teaches you to cook.
