Each night father fills me with dread
As he sits at the foot of my bed
I don’t mind that he speaks
In gibbers and squeaks
But for seventeen years he’s been dead.
From The Listing Attic, Edward Gorey. Circa 1954.
For some gory Gorey, see my Compulsions.
Happy Halloween.
Keep your girl children out of outfits that sexualize, and keep yourself out of outfits that infantilize.
Boo
Peace
