The Incubus' Song

By Cliff Lake

 

The Incubus’ Song

 

What dark entity calls?

Some plodding thing beyond the mind’s focus,

A creeping intellect monstrous,

It mutters chaos and empty violence,

It whispers forgetfulness.

It tells wordless stories of the Unmaker.

It invites a great undoing,

Its discordant song sickens,

And thrills.

What formless presence hails?

Some creeping creature of no substance,

Here where your conception denies,

Its attraction is corruption,

And desire.

It murmurs the ending of all,

It sighs the when of you gone.

This is the peace that it offers:

An unholy cessation,

A desistment.

What putrescence proposes?

Some writhing sin of existence,

Desperate for its unwinding of self,

A craving for termination,

Of immolation,

And furious completion.

Its lust will never be slaked,

It moans for your yielding,

To discorporate,

To become the empty.

What foulness beckons?

Some slither of madness calling.

An evil too ravenous to consume itself,

It would have you.

A devourment ceaseless,

And unendurable.

Can you hear it sing?

It croons lunacy…

Can you hear it sing?

Do you hear it sing?

 

Cliff Lake 3/7/2023

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2023

 

 

 

 

Location: Dalton, MA, USA

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