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"With a rush of wind a great hand came crashing through the window. It sought me out and grasped me by the throat. There was nothing I could do as the myst was wide about my waist. Slowly the hand choked me into an eternal dream where I stood alone on a mountaintop as the wind screamed about me."

the silverfish came back tonight nibbling at my pillow to take the threads and pull them so apart that the pillow was not a pillow but something else remember roman and deneuve the hands the groping and the eyeballs razor nah you never drifted there to that world remember carter when for the third time he awakened with those flights still undescended

and those hushed sunset streets still untraversed praying long and earnestly to the hidden gods of the dream that brood capricious above the clouds on unknown kadath in the cold waste where no man treads remember that no way cause those never occurred to you i bet just me those fish are surely funny crawling lightly over my shoulder to distract while others swarm the pillow transforming it into a folded creature not a pillow thats for sure. but roman he had madness the visitor pawing pawing even as she blocked the door with heavy this and that didnt work cause he got in anyway to violate to madden that poor girl who never should have been left alone anyway but these fish these silver slivers they are are are ...enough. spatially discrete my ass who says can be this who says so, the sense to gleam to wring can do you from this i wonder can you see the point of ramble when fed up tops the brim there is the reason reason reason for fed up cause i am tired of the usual pitters patterless and futile yes these roll in with the fish those silver ones and sleep, dear sleep can be no more so yes there is only kadath, spawn of howard only that...



six   four   three   two   one

...Grasshoppers gate

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