the skin on his chest
buckled and ripped
as he lay
staring
at the ceiling
the black beak
tore
through
his flesh
slowly
the beady eyed gaze
stared
into his own
it shook itself
slowly emerging
from
the now open wound
with a caw
it launched itself
into the air
flew around the room
before settling
on the book case
three more
and
he will have
the whole set
Mike's Manic Word Depot 
That last line made this poem go from an 8 to a 15.
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i live to serve
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hhhmmmm – me too
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I’ve been immersed in Lovecraft for the new book and I decided old Howard Philip would have done a sight better with humor. We get it, being racist and misogynistic was tough at the turn of the century, but smile.
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