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.
Just keeping the spirit of H.P. Lovecraft alive. I hope he won't get mad at my work.