Brothers and sisters, let me set the scenefor a nightmarish creature so foul & obscenethat penning this poem makes me want to scream,but the timing is perfect — for it's Halloween.So, if we must, let's just start at the topof his oversized skull with his unruly mopof so-called hair the no-color of duston a fissured scalp peeling & leaking out pus.His locks wind 'round horns, they're teeming with germs,and look more like the husks of a million dead worms.You've heard of bats in the belfry?Well, it's not just a phrase;small ones nest in his curls to hide from the sun's rays.One more word on his noggin, for this must be said:it's ten times the girth of a normal-sized head.And if I haven't yet made the case for distaste,let's move to the horror this thing calls a face. Skin's the color of pumpkins dying a slow deathor a failing sun breathing its very last breath.Brows like hairy slugs perched on orangey doughcrown flat yellow eyes peeking out just below.Those beady orbs nestled in