There’s no two ways around it tonight was their night
On the 31st all the creeps and ghouls
Hop on to the sixty-fear on head street
The one the mortals though was lost in the great crash of ‘87
It flashes the ticket to the headless driver and shuffles to the back
Colchesters cream of the crop are showing up for the festivities tonight
The whitest ghosts around the abandoned estate
The zombies who’s mothers could still recognize them
And it’s not feeling so assured after a glimpse of the company
Frankenstien assured it before it left, that he made a looker
Made from only the finest people that have died within the last year
The cheekbones and abs of the slickest men
The silky hair and the thighs of the most luscious of ladies
It just crossed what could be interpreted to be fingers
And hoped it’d slip into the background
All the skeletons are chatting their teeth to the jams
A mixtape of Nick Cave, The Cramps, Bauhaus
The mummies are showing off their new designer wraps
The wolf men are showing off the kind of guns
A huntsman could only hope to fight him with
While the harpies stroke his fine coat
Dropping feathers he snarls nothings in her ears
Meanwhile the Jiangshi’s saving face out the back
Complaining how the ableist scum inside friendzoned him
While the socially awkward swamp monsters
Pet the house chimera in the corner
She spots it’s hunched physique from across the room
The proceeds to say goodbye to her fellow Alraune on the wall
Introduces herself to the monster as Ssalucard
Classicly it fucks up the introduction
No matter how much it corrects itself
She’ll always know him as Frank-I-dillies monster
Their’s no way in hiding the fact that’s she’s keen
Although if it’s theories are reality remains to be seen
She smuggles into her vial of blood a shot of JD
Thus heightening the guarantee
She flashes her fangs after she takes a sip
The proceeds to play the janitor with her tongue
She grabs it’s arm and damn near pulls the stitches off
As Jack The Ripper by Screaming Lord Sutch starts to play
They brushed past the nymphs and the sprites
That where playing pranks on the dance floor
The will-o-wisp illuminate the dancefloor
Inbetween the Dybbuks and the Golems
They shimmied the floor into submission
While never taking their gaze of each other
They wondered outside of the club together
By this point the Wolfmen and Anubis
Are barking at eachother in the taxi queue
While the Mandrake girlfriends cry to split them up
Knowing when a party’s over
They head to the pumpkin patch
The vamptress lead it through the vegetation
Dodging the awkward Jack-O-Lanterns
Getting it on like they were blending with the environment
…They weren’t
They sat down underneath the Zaccoum
She takes it’s hand, runs her finger down the stitches
Looks into it’s eyes
“Hey, stay with me Frankie”
– Lnc0
Domestic Poetry 