morbidflight

Halloween: A day of darkness. Zombies and vampires; werewolves and ghouls. All vie for your flesh, your soul, your very essence as their candy.  You allow them camouflage as they walk around without a costume. She stands alone by the punch-bowl, sipping Garbage Pail as she hunts. Her blonde hair is straggly and unkempt, clothes black and prosaic, green eyes bored. He is beautiful, stupid, drawn like a moth to the flame, unable to resist her animal allure.  They speak briefly, and she offers a taut, harsh smile before they leave, tripping over each other in the rush of desire.

she says, i feel like an octopus, and i don't understand because i don't watch the nature channel long enough to find out that they don't enjoy, but collect such pretty things--i spend my time thinking thoughts of theology and making my living room smell of bread and butter with someone else's holidays so that maybe someday i can say i have collected enough reasons to talk about anything with anyone-- i used to calculate birthdays until it was a compulsion and before that i did not talk but bark at people who interrupted my painting and before that i wax'n'waned at each blues and grassroots singer i could obtain the re