I've had to gaze into that abyss once...
And the Abyss gazed back upon me...
It was a Lovecraftian horror.
Moist, and pink and purple and quivering with infinite hunger,
It emitted a noxious smell, repulsive and enticing at the same time,
A smell that drove otherwise sane men mad...
A sight that allowed responsible men to part with their belongings, instantly...
Like a vertical mouth, like a sucking Charybdis, or a jerking Scylla, it threatens to engulf and consume all manhood.
The lips of it fold and unfold in Non-Euclidian geometries, oddly drawing rational men towards it, when they should fear it.
This void seeks only one thing; the donation of male human essence. Should you give up you seed, this hole shoots out young souls, living, breathing, crying, souls.
Either that,
Or worse....
someone dead
someone alone
Someone you cannot take home
Welcome.
Recline on one of our couches, upholstered in the finest silk we could have, imported from the Orient.
Take your pipe, filled with quality Afghan Poppy, and imbibe, while you listen to our house poets take you to transcendent realms with their words.
Should you feel so bold, feel free to pen a poem, or short story here, while you are under the beautiful duress of the midnight's oil.
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