There is a place where beauty and evil lie intertwined

Where hope becomes that moist, sweet air which liberates before it confines

Birds above and sky crisp blue do not whisper of such things

But he will bellow with deafening rage, “I am the Yellow King!”

You count the flat brown patches as you race through the green maze

Fourteen so far as you turn toward the voice, not seeing fifteen, your open grave

You claw and scrape to leave the pit as his steps draw closer

“My lovely, you will never leave this place. You are forever in Carcosa.”









PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Melanie Greenwood