A poem about my eldritch abomination the Dreamfeeder's favorite pastime, told from the point of view of its unfortunate victims, spirits doomed to dream for perhaps eternity.
We used to be fearless,
Back when we still lived.
And yet you hold us captive
Bound with wounds we can’t forgive.
Acid of insanity,
Dripping down these walls.
Pure black wine in choking waterfalls.
A stranger of plagues
From abyssal skies you called.
We came to you
And through our hearts you sawed
And wailed your siren song.
Motionless and moon-eyed,
Upon this hungry floor
We are dead but deeply dreaming
Now through your mind we tour
Seeing aspects of ourselves,
Torn and wrapped in gore.
Endless, frantic nightmares
Are all you want us for.
We are deaf with withered ears
In a cosmic coffin, smothered here.
Yet we hear your screams and the words are clear.
So loving as you clutch us near.
Our spirits drift in your ruined land
Wandering through endless night
Black tides lapping at our blood
Oblivious to hope, disease of blight.
In the chains of aeons
Of a ghastly scheme
Bodies dead but minds alive
All we do is dream.