Oct 29, 2020
Brothers and sisters, let me set the scenefor a nightmarish creature so foul & obscenethat penning this poem makes me want to scream, but the timing is perfect — for it's Halloween. So, if we must, let's just start at the top of his oversized skull with his unruly mop of so-called hair the no-color of duston a fissured scalp peeling & leaking out pus. His locks wind 'round horns, they're teeming with germs, and look more like the husks of a million dead worms. You've heard of bats in the belfry? Well, it's not just a phrase; small ones nest in his curls to hide from the sun's rays. One more word on his noggin, for this must be said: it's ten times the girth of a normal-sized head. And if I haven't yet made the case for distaste, let's move to the horror this thing calls a face. Skin's the color of pumpkins dying a slow death or a failing sun breathing its very last breath. Brows like hairy slugs perched on orangey dough crown flat yellow eyes peeking out just below. Those beady orbs