- an intense display of anger, openly displayed.
Don’t shy away,
step into the smouldering light,
feel the torrid heat from eyes all ablaze.
One million eyes fixing you with an ireful gaze …
You’re naught but a dream,
a cruel nightmare, a colourless haze,
of Azathoth’s imagination, or so it would seem.
Daemon pipers play a hideous tune, the type which stays
embedded within fragile mortal memory, like an echoing scream.
Like seething fools they dance
around their atrocious lord and master
to stay his wrath, prolong their lives, and to entrance
Azathoth, the daemon sultan, recalcitrant and wrathful, an imminent disaster.