I decided after much deliberation
that my writer and colleague did not lie
for as he had written about Innsmouth
there would be much dark mystery in that port

I thought I'd travel in his footsteps
take the bus,, that rickety thing
guided by my now tracadodium friend
who just bubbled pointing with his fins

I took my case with empty pads
pads that did plead for the relief of ink
as for me I wanted to know
why this town had a fishy stale stench

What foul deeds did the residents inochulessly conceal
what black magic wavered gold from the cold grey sea
so as we skipped over bumps and fallen twigs
with pen in hand, I would make a dairy of my time in Innsmouth

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

Moon between the clouds,
ander the shade of Innsmouth.
A place that even in dreams I dare to visit
they hide passageways you one other place.
Walk the streets and if you're lucky the moon will guide. . .

The testament to what I relate
An irrational deformity
in time and space
Arc words cancer with disappointment,
"Do you really wish it was this way?"
A human pentagram
paints the stage
A creeping foreboding afflicting rigor mortis
like something slinking through the darkness
Unknowable, bubbling below the surface.
Pieces of thread unravels from the hand
sinking deeper into hydra waters
until you dissipate in the downpour
and forgo resistance
because you seethe at the stars
yet the beyond cares not
for your existence.