The night before the haunt
\nwas supposed to be filled
\nwith pure joy or sheer terror,
\nbut not a deep depression,
\nhopeless burden against all odds.<\/p>\n
Arms extended reach out
\ntrying to make a difference
\nor not to be dragged
\non the sweeping of the tide,
\nbut succumbing due to deep pressure.<\/p>\n
Perhaps rain or wind,
\nor beasts howling in despair;
\ndreams of butch scavengers
\nfeasting on the trade
\nof a mutilated corpse.<\/p>\n
Things are not okay,
\nfeeling echoes of a vacuum swirl.
\nThe fog drips and stains
\nwith the liquid twist
\nof its cold caress<\/p>\n
and the clock ticks
\nas the time wanes
\nunderneath the rough judgement,
\na degradating stench of foul air
\non the night before the haunt.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The night before the haunt was supposed to be filled with pure joy or sheer terror, but not a deep depression, hopeless burden against all odds. Arms extended reach out trying to make a difference or not to be dragged on the sweeping of the tide, but succumbing due to…<\/p>\n