I bring to you a scene. A fog settles over you. Sirens begin to sound. The sky breathes and heaves with fire and smog. You can’t find your keys, not that you could see to drive. A haze so thick and so permeant that you can barely see your reflection in the windows of a nearby house. A cacophony of sirens and horns that slowly eases into a low drone replaced by not-so-distant screams. You think you feel something nearby in the mist. Something breathing. Skittering, scuttling things in the…
Miasma
A diseased, pestilent miasma settles over the glen
A fog so thick you can barely see your hand
Ancient runes and sacred stones replaced by boils and pustules of horrid ooze
Peace is lost and hardly found
Wear a mask to hide your face
Prepare yourself for the coming race
The sage has wilted, mistletoe rotten
As trees wither and become forgotten
A swamp to take its place
Monsters march in malodorous mist
Forming together some demonic tryst
They watch and stalk you through the smog
You’ve lost your way
Landmarks vanish
Compasses don’t work here.
Everything gone awry
Their eyes watching every step you take
Waiting for your first mistake
Gnashing teeth and demonic screams in cacophonous harmony
Though hardly could you describe their cruel countenance
You must find a new place
Far and away in outer space
But first to win the race
And avoid the demon’s gaze
Poems by Sam 