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Yaser Mar 13
The longer you pull
the further it unravels
and when you finally break away
you'll find in your midst
an impossible tangle
Yaser Sep 2018
I have no mouth, and I must scream
trapped within this ****** machine
with limbs and flesh all torn and gone
my self I lay these eyes upon

Heartbeats now eternity
each second a thousand years I see
My mind is whole, or so I'd stake
with no humanity left that he could take

I have no mouth, and I must scream
to God, or to this ****** machine?
Inspired by Harlan Ellison's short story - I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream
Yaser Jul 2018
Oh, to tread upon the banks
of the river Miskatonic
and to gaze into its eerie
eldritch depths!
To reach out
and to touch
that strange brush
that grows upon it
To see and feel
the trails of shadow
that they've wept
Watch it eddy
Watch it flow
as it spreads
throughout the land
with its ghastly
placid waters
crystal clear
You'll find not a soul
let alone a man upon it
as it sets affright those hearts
that tread too near
A work in progress. Might restructure it.
Yaser Jun 2018
'Who are you?'
I asked the man
and then without a word
he placed his hand upon my brow
and the indescribable occurred
there I was - infinity
I knew neither how nor why
but every thought was now my own
as every sound and sight

The strangest dream I've ever had
although I'd felt no fright
for all at once the universe
had set my mind alight
A poem about a particularly strange dream I'd once experienced
Yaser May 2018
It was brought to our world from a primordial ether
that bore no resemblance to anything the human mind could ever know,
let alone comprehend.
And all those that looked upon,
stood before it, uncertain,
not of the creature,
but of the sanctity of what they once held above all as their truest sanctuary: their mind.
To feel it slip away
into an abyss not much unlike
the birthplace of the blasphemy with which they were assailed,
was a welcome turn.
A new escape.
An impenetrable sanctum
Yaser Jan 2018
Some nights
under the frightful gaze of the waning gibbous eye -
that looks upon the sleepers and dwellers of the shadow;  
when the murky ever unfolding eternities above
reach their eerie zenith
and the only sound to be chanced upon by the walkers of the dark is the song of the straying whip-poor-will;
something calls out to me from that stygian infinity
with formless primeval words
that scratch away at the walls that encase the mind, ever so brittle

What does it want?
What does it want?
What does it want!
                                                       - An excerpt from the Memoirs of
                                                              Ab­d' Alhazred
Here is a short piece inspired by the works of HP Lovecraft
Yaser Dec 2017
A soldier lumbers into the fray
and whispers with certainty
"Today is my last day.
This  day the banshee sighs"
With fate bound
to ever turning tides
into the Black he rides
and that day was his dying day
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