Gwarloth slithers in starpools of slime,
Wavering tentacles slowly appear,
Pseudopods grapple and search the air,
Seeking innocent, lost victims in time.

Waiting to tear they prey asunder,
Endless colonies of suctioning holes,
Yearn to devour unwary souls,
Supplying nourishment for their hunger.

Then upon a star-flung, blasted place,
Hideous, gibbous eyes blink and expand,
Forming a dangling, quivering gland,
That transforms to a cyclopean face.

Alas poor fool, you can have no hope,
Despair and doom will prevail upon thee,
Others will call from the vacuous sea,
Like a tonitrous, roaring lycanthrope!

© 1998 James A. Gruetzmacher

First Appearance: Mythos Online #7