Alone—they writhe

I don't offer this as a stellar example of writing, it's more a historical curiosity. I've started going through my papers, and I found this. I wrote it in college, I'm guessing either my freshman or junior year—either way, a long time ago. It's a pretty obvious Lovecraft/Howard derivative, with all that classic angst and darkness in it. I was probably feeling horribly unloved or something :-). Anyway, here it is.

What leathery wings flaunt shadows in hell?
What ancients crawl from pit to pit in slithery silence?
Better forgotten; not sought out,
by mortals with so small a grasp on sanity.

And yet some seek such creatures of terror,
far beyond recall themselves,
deep within sepulchral halls,
in vaulted caverns and bloody crypts.

They weave the spells that cast a web,
and bind themselves in servitude.

Spectres and ghouls,
their countenance reeks of forgotten evils,
crawling with the stains of forgotten hope;
blind thralls, soulless and undead.

Alone—they writhe in endless torment,
and their screams echo in the silence.