Issue Two - R.M. Engelhardt
Space-man
Back when George W.
was a little boy
He told his
Daddy George Sr.
That when he grew
up that he wanted
to be a space-man.
Noctorum
You live in Noctorum, somewhere between the cities of reality & pretentious bullshit. Nowhere near the mid-west or Nebraska, the land of sheep fuckers & republicans where religion oversees reason, where superstition oversees truth.
Welcome.
There is a painting by Georgia O'Keefe on the wall & a plasma TV that takes up most of the room. Pictures by Ansel Adams overtake the small dwelling that your shadow inhabits. Today is Tuesday. After they arrest you call your attorney pretending that you are somebody else. At work the staff was left in shock, you were such a hard worker and always eager to help. You handled the accounts & took care of all the mail. Your attorney breathes out a long sigh over the phone and sounds like a distant train off in the distance leaving for a place far away. Disappointment seems to be the driving motif in your life. Not depression or anger, not movies or mom. They found the bits of flesh & spatters of blood in your living room, they found the young girl's head in the freezer and as evidence took your TV. You're fucked one billion times one thousand & ten, more than all those cowards who just hid everything, their desires, their wants & needs. As a teenager you used to like to travel. Europe, America the world your oyster and hunting at night in the clubs. Vampires live, vampires exist, and so do demons, devils & gods. And among them, you were the shit, the king shit of the scene, all of the rest of them...fakes. Screw Hannibal Lechter, screw Dahmer & the rest of them, because you are the real thing. The police take you away in cuffs as if you were a common criminal a lucid expression upon your face. You live in Noctorum, you live in the suburbs, you live in yourself and when they pull the plug on you & your sorry ass you think that hell will be a festival like Halloween, as your lawyer mumbles under his breathe
"Poor, stupid son of a bitch...he'll fry".