Chaos Sorcerer

The Chaos Gods where grinning.
Blind and maddened they smiled.
Through the incantations of the Sorcerer, the Chaos Gods had been riled.

Cthulhu, dead but dreaming, started stirring in the depths.
Shadows started twisting, writhing, spewing from his breath.

Each word that he vibrated, spouted mouthfuls of writhing worms.
Hideous, sickening tentacles, that oozed and wrapped and squirmed.

He called to the mad god Azag-Thoth, from the primeval swamp of inner space.
Calling to even Tiamat, most ancient of her race.

The Sorcerer was crazy, the taint of Chaos strong.
Slowly seeping into his dreams, until all of his own dreams where gone.

From summoning to sacrifice, the Sorcerer muttered the words.
To stir the ancient Chaos, that would immolate the earth.

Now in his maddened excitement, he sliced at his flesh as he spoke.
In a simultaneous occurrence, the borders between realms and sanity broke.

Now he saw the Chaos, the maddening and the merge.
As everything and nothing, twisted, floated, sank, submerged.

The floor became the ceiling, as his head became his arse.
Somewhere else his mind was reeling, as the future ate the past.

Outside the world was dying in a multitude of ways.
Most of which unimaginable, incomprehensible, and strange.

The Sorcerer was nothing now, but the Chaos he had raised.
A crawling mass of nightmare, all his everything erased.

The world had never witnessed, such things, unknown to man.
Was the Warp and Weave of Chaos, and the Ancient Ones master plan.

But now the gates are open, and through them Chaos seeps.
Infecting minds through nightmare, tainting everything that sleeps.