I really have no idea how this came to be. When I was done writing it, I felt like it was incomplete. However, I could find no other way to expand upon any of the aspects. To some, it may seem impersonal; to others, downright blatantly Lovecraftian. I can’t find any other word to describe it except “weird”.
See for yourself.
Prying eyes soar and impale
And swell with a primordial hunger;
They seek and feast on minds so frail –
Eyes of the Beast, eyes of the Hunter.
Boneless limbs tear at the veil
With gruesome self-inflicted anger.
Blood and bile does it exhale,
As the Old One dwells deep in the umber.
Corpulent wastes of endless corpses
Corrupt the land, feast on the fallen.
A broken grin so wicked rises –
They call to Him… He calls to them…