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REVENGE OF THE MIND, by Michael C. Phifer.
I do not hate; I contemplate and wait.
Out of the night of dark mistrust
I speed my minions with a curse
Of deeds most foul, and in a hearse
They course the rivers of your soul,
Condemn your hopes to Hell-spawned holes
And scurry through the warrens of your mind.
I call upon the Dark Destroyer.
Furies I recall from ancient tombs
To loose their fateful spells
Upon the heathen mother:
She who freed you from her womb
To seize infectious life. The =ells
Of Despair, unfathomed through the years
Remain a beacon for your thoughts
Pale flames of If blaze high
Illuminate the caves of dreams
Demented fools inspired in your mind
And shadow frame the shrouded veil of death
Substantial as life seems; you know
Its frailties and by worm-glow
You wind the torturous paths of tim
The Dark Piper rises from his grave
And leads cadaverous legions forth.
His flutings writhe their tendrils deep
Within the lichen laden walls,
Caress the furrowed crease of pulsing brains;
And run with scratching claws through labyrinths
You fabricate within the empty halls
Your soul leaves naked to the rains
They feast upon your flesh and sing
A funeral dirge to grinning skulls
Who tear your maggot-ridden corpse
You die, and I . . . am satisfied.
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