My mind, a puzzle of aphotic notions, has taken a shapeless form of its own. I no longer have control of my thoughts, they belong to others, a thousands others. Ancient premonitions of early man, of coming bloodshed and unimaginable lust. Yes, true, this is now an illness of the mind, for bodily mutation amalgamates with the mutation of mind. Ghastly, slender fingers grazing my cerebral lobes and there are whispers of primordial, rotten intention.
My perception has been altered so cruelly. Georgia, the bakery girl, of whom I paid little attention before, has visited me in my dreams, no, nightmares. Lucid visions of her pale naked form permeate continuously as my eyes do shut and my body rests. No, there is no rest for me now, there is only sepulchral phantasms and soiled bed sheets.
Perhaps the most paramount development pertaining to my physical metamorphosis is with regards to my penis. As I wake from these vivid nightmares, I find myself spattered with translucent white plasma. I know it is not of this cosmos, I know now that my limb has become a portal, inviting archaic, ethereal substances to our plane of existence.
Georgia, whom once served me sweetbread with a chaste smile and soft, kindly hands, has been adopted as a torture instrument by a cosmic evil of which wishes me dead.
I cannot leave my penis alone. Despondency is all I know in this terror world. If there is something, anything, that would have me die, I would gladly oblige. I seek only end, eternal sleep devoid of nightmare or vision.
Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Boobies R'lyeh wgah'nagl Wanking
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