The false gods of the modern age rule not through iron. But light and heat. No longer does the dark hide, the cold bite. And the ones in control will carve pound after pound of flesh until nothing is left. In the end the dark. The cold. Always win.
Why you gotta say some spooky shit, man? Say something beautiful and true.
Beneath Carcosa’s dying stars, Where black Lake Hali gleams, I walked among the pallid spires That rise between our dreams. The twin suns drowned behind the mist, The heavens bruised and wan, And somewhere through the empty streets A mournful song went on. I found the mask beside the lake, Its porcelain cold and fair. I raised it gently to my face And felt Him waiting there. At first, I knew the thoughts were mine. My memories, my name. The childhood rooms, the hands I loved, The face from which I came. But Carcosa remembers differently. It whispered through the stone. It showed me lives I never lived, And graves I called my own. My name grew distant on my tongue, My face became unclear. The voice beneath the yellow silk Was all that I could hear. I tried to tear the mask away. There was no edge to find. For somewhere in that silent hour The mask had moved inside. Now Hali holds my reflection still Beneath its starless tide. A stranger watches from the depths With yellow robes spread wide. And when the King calls out my name, I answer, though I know: That name belonged to someone else, A very long time ago.
we both yellow yous like thatness?
