I came to Arkham one foggy morn A student, ambitious but poor I dreamed of improving my station Of being more than the son of a whore I was determined to write a thesis Like no one had ever seen before I gathered occult books with strange inks I became versed in the most ancient lore One night I fell asleep while working I entered the dream through a back door I encountered a landscape most queer Eldricht abominations from times of yore When I awoke my bright eyes were bleeding And I was screaming on the wooden floor Eternally haunted as a hangman’s hill Chased by the scent of alien gore.