Tag Archives: cthulhu

The Horror! The Horror!

Awoken from my dreadful slumber on the Devil’s Day, mine leering eyes did most suddenly happen upon the writhing, ranting, roaring masses of the web, violently screaming in frenzied fits of ecstasy broadcast in one hundred and forty characters or less at the sick injustice of Kim’s marital collapse, an act which shunned both sanity and sanctity, consuming the civilian concerns of a world engrossed in the Pagan traditions of change and revolution on that day.

I put my phone down and went back to bed for five minutes. But it wouldn’t go away.

Cthulhu Do You Love?

I still recall the first time
I saw him. How the mere

sight of him gave me goosebumps,
sent a wildly electric ripple

through every inch of my
body. A madness so elated,

so asphyxiating, it could
only be described as “love.”

There was a mass to him.
A certain girth — not fat, by

any means, but there was
something about him, both

his body and his essence,
that was larger, greater than

life itself. It was rough, worn,
and manly, but it screamed

of how it might hold me through
the endless nights, and I knew

he would surround me, protect
me, like a boundless blanket.

I longed for nothing more
than to drown myself within

his reach, wrapped up so
tightly in his aileron. Such a

warm, coriaceous span! And O,
the tendrils of his lips. When

finally they came to me, that
was when I found myself so

truly and utterly consumed.
How they would gently caress

my mouth. How each kiss was
like a massage, gently tickling

each nerve with the delicate
dance of fingertips as he

fondled my lobes. “Fhtagn,”
he whispered sweetly, and I

had no defense but to give myself
over to him, with all my deepest soul.