Haunt or Be Haunted, or Go to Hell

The spike on my tongue wasn’t dissolving and I had not a clue why the weather was turning to snow. Another early season frozen whirly-pop again this year dictating the evenings plans of party to party to show to couch to sad sappy sucker come down trauma. What’s the point of making a scene when you can be your own seen, live your dream for one day as a character you desire… fantasy, be the spirit. I’m a hot dog, all beef, spicy with extra mustard. Everyone knew the judges at the costume contest were paid hush money under the table. Out of my haze on the a random stoop speaking bluntly with her as the horse drawn pumpkin disappeared careening a caravan of my so called revelers away as the monster mash was on repeat. Adults are children, I can’t remember their names. Everything had happened so fast, my money was no good anywhere and I was still confused why asparagus makes your pee smell funny as the cold set walking don’t follow me home. Haunt or be haunted, keep on ghouling, dissolving down to hell.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ben@bensklar.com

bensklar.com

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