You were across the playground
I wanted to play catch
I said hi and smiled
You did the same

I tossed my ball towards you
You caught it and tossed it
Right back

We did that for a while
Laughing and smiling and playing
Having the time of our lives

But you wanted to throw it further
I told you I can't throw very far

I tossed the ball at you

And watched as you tossed it to someone else
Who could throw
Further than me.

Find me here right at home
By the leaves where I was grown
Find me calling out all alone
For a love I'd never known.
Find your courage through the fall
By your return the frost will thaw
Discover we were never alone at all

I've got a lot of friends,
but I don't hear from them;
not anymore.

I've met them all
last summer.
Let's just say
it was in a cabin.
Let's just say,
maybe,
it's now their coffin.

Lately, I've been getting phantasms.
I've been seeing them
staring back at me,
white,
blank,
starry eyes;
standing amidst
tall colonies of wild grass.
When the sun
changes its hue into black,
it sends a frightful shiver
down my spine.
Their bodies morph
into a demonic *******
of an amorphous blob
with several human legs
and slick tendrils
pouring out
off their orifices.
Their eyes sinks back,
their brows and lashes shed,
their eyelids seal shut.
Out of their mouths
emerges a fist-sized eyeball.
Their skin secretes
inky mucus
which fuses them together.
Then they begin to chant.
I couldn't make sense
of their eldritch gibberish
blasphemies at first,
but after you get used
to the terrors they spew,
you could hear them saying,
"Nyarlatothep heeded
thy call.
Nyarlatothep heeded
thy call.
Nyarlatothep heeded
thy call."

Months have passed since.
I just want to tell my lovers,
that their slumber
is for the betterment
of all existence.
The sky looks
like an eternal void;
devoid of life.
The Black Pharaoh
reigns in the cosmos.
All hail Nyarlatothep.

I will change the table
Someone so kindly hid under my desk
I will change it tomorrow
There's a trapdoor of sockets
And my chair keeps getting stuck

Tomorrow I will smile wider and
Not fiddle with my hands
I will not nod again and again
Like a bubble head on speed
When someone is speaking
I will not fear moving too loudly

When tomorrow comes I will
Be sure of how to wear my hair
And what to say when someone
Asks me if I've brought lunch

I will try to eat with company
Not hide in the restaurant that
You only know if you've been
There before

I will not cry at the thought of doing
This forever, for the rest of my life
During lunch, chainsmoking
My feelings even if my lungs can't take it anymore

Tomorrow I will not feel words
Dying in my throat

sometimes it is best to do nothing with it
let it rest inside and smother in peace
bother it not with worries and grief
the happiest of fields do not know of man
and the sharp whips of greedy, greased hands