This poem is about a Lovecraftian figure that has been recurring for years in only the worst of my nightmares. It is Lovecraftian in the sense that the adversary is singular in its malevolance, immutable and incomprehensibly superior to the human.  This thing is evil in excess, powerful beyond belief and a virtuoso of cruelty and mindgaming through disguising itself as household items, inanimate objects, negative spaces, loved ones, movement or even as atmosphere. It is the consummate non- and anti-human, the stalking torture, a delayed execution. 


Formless haunt
abstracted cruelty
Capgras’ djinn,
cystalline mazes
physical paradoxes become
shrines to emesis.

A rabisu to my name
the playful insouciant evil
sentient cancer
the inverted cosmic black
foul electric.

Hijacked dream
astral hex
lurking dark traveller
seance prose
host charmer.


‘Miss Muriel Belcher’, Francis Bacon 1959


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