Kevin Heaton


On the far side of sanity, where Security

languishes in anonymity; deep, monotonous

pulsations penetrate the peace of silent night.

In wee hours, listless beings cast in stupor

poses, meander through luminous entryways.

They wander depleted aisles, manned

by skeleton crews, gathering imported

fodder to fill the emptiness of carnal

cravings; eerie shadow figures with sunken,

fixated eyes, and pierced flesh inked in body

art illustrations depicting dragons

and warlocks gleeful consummation of Satan’s

nymphomaniacal sisters in positions

of ecstacy. Hellions, shoplifters, and gangbangers

plying darkness trades.