Today was meant to be the unholiest of fucked up celebrations, but happened to have the gambling addicts bad luck of falling on the most mundane of days. One that even shares the first couple syllables with the goddamn fucking word. I see endless remnants of breakfast burrito and candy wrappers litter the street next to piles of vomit composed of their past contents. I can even smell the pungent shame from within my car, despite circulating the air for the sole purpose of keeping out such odors. The smell is that of sweet tarts slowly dissolved in svedka within stomach linings before eventually erupting out esophagi across the patiently waiting pavement. What a holiday this Halloween.
All Hallows’ Munday
Dim Opus 