--A Halloween Apocalypse--

Moving shapes

Of hulking blackened

Highlighted shadows

They’re going

Every which way

Without the slightest

Clue as to

Which way

They’re going

Or coming from

And they’re painted

And draped

And covered in straps

Shreds

Trails of furs, leathers

Plastics of every sort

And it gets hard to sort

Them out,

The monsters

From

Their

Costumes.

How much depravity

Is enough or too much

For the depraved

Before the irony

Is too clean

To waste on themselves?

I’m standing in the

Midst

Of a mist

Of sweat and ****

And my jeans

Are soaked to the

Shins with *****

Or sweat

Or ****

Or hopefully blood

And I’m staring into

A shifting cloud

Of tall thin cold

Glasses of water

Waving skinny limbs

Twisting and flailing

As the show

Is put on for the

Other bony, ragged

Appendages by their

Androgynous semi-owners

Draped in furs

That are just as

Flea bitten as

Their desire to

Create substance

Through the flagrant

Display of debauchery

And purposeful

And tactfully

Tactless

Effort

To prove

A lack

Of substance.

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