Under the Corn Moon Spell

Beneath the bright corn moon,
Covered in a black sabbath void
Clouds of coverage converge—
Merging over magnificence—
To be denied by a damnable

Destiny

Dominating dreadfully,
The...
	ahhh...
		feeling of flesh
			fragmenting,
st r  e   t    c     h      i       n        g,
s h r e d d i n g,
Tearing terribly with torque,
 T-tr-aaaaggghhh-trapping my soul
Within a shape-shifting

		Secluder, 

A predator,

A night nemesis negating the natural—
Fangs fomenting fear of
Death
	e
		s
			t
				r
					u
				c
			t
		i
	v
e.

The howl is harrowing,
Its vibrato soul venom.
Paralysis sets in.
  
You feel it.     So do I.

Death becomes you this night
In a flashing forest of fur.

Look up—
If. You. Dare.

The moon’s red hue is no eclipse,
It’s your irises covered in blood.

© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved. 

Tittu