Hell-mare: Cory Buchanan

Lava tinged flickers,
by the lantern room,
swell soundlessly
in unpaired horror.

A thrum,
hammers in chest.
Scattered words rummage,
in slithering murmurs.

Low hoarse moans,
launch from the shaded profile,
lurching with bent posture.

Propped in the hall,
all slams pitch dark,
roaring with creaks.

Falling to the baseboards,
a pulse glows in retina.
Waking on a chair,
glaring at the blazing lantern room.