Last night was a blur. Not a fog. Just a light mist creating fuzzy picture, like a memory. A dream wrapper. October is here, and I can only feel a curiousity. What is Halloween here? Home is here now, and the spirits of now are finally speaking.

Can you here me?

The wind spins the fall leaves in perfect circles, perfect swirls of non-exist. They're as fucking real as the sound of a horse trapsing down the road, easily mistaken for the devil's clanks. They tell me he's a satyr.

Every Halloween we become new, terrified out of our old shells: A New Year for freaks. Pimai for the depressed, and dark, the down and out. The lost and the unholy. We're all the same, and the baptism of candy corn and caramels has come.

The Gods of trick or treat; Samhain and the Great Pumpkin have come to save the poor who've been cast aside, and hung from trees by their own parents.

God save the gays, or nobody will.

Stand in the corner and scream with me.

Yes
No
Do nothing