Toys at the Table

An unaroused and torpid walk, I tread upon life's dreary,

Ghastly specters and illusive talk, alluring dreamers weary,

Screams from dreams and the dimmest light, all keep me from sleep at night,

Guarding corridors of nightmarish fright, few shall pass the guardian's might.

Alas! Alas! You may pass, you are here for dinner,

Feast on dreams of the lost in mass, and it will feast, the sinner,

Hedonistic, twisted, pain insisted, Illusions of morals self-inflicted,

The menu long and can't be listed, but on the table your mind depicted,

Meaty carcasses and bad intent, stews and gruels in gruesome bowls,

Dine till full, to your heart's content, Feed off fools who've lost their souls,

Grubby hands, dig right in, more greasy grime and gizzards galore,

Eat! Eat! You look so thin, You look like you can fit some more,

Satisfied, You're painfully plump, Just look down at your glutted gut,

Behind, an ominous thump and dining hall doors slamming shut,

And from glowing plumes of flowing fumes of a cryptic miasma,

Of decay and putrescent tombs, awakens the phantasma,

Geist of life and nether beyond, most abruptly disentombed,

Endlessly hungry, it has spawned, The main course yet to be consumed.