howard phillip's nightgaunts were faceless horrors, mouths & eyes replaced with a suggestive darkness. there ain't nothing faceless on my lovelies, lips conundrum soft, eyes as hard as quills (& twice as filled with ink). i've been fictionalizing names for these beautiful haunts, piece by piece. lal, swar, yama, zaz, gog. you know we're puzzle pieces & there's no way to see the picture on the box, right? splay your hands across your face like a spider, darlings. gnash your teeth & wait till we can be reunited in the abattoir of heaven. i'll be there, by watch & warrent.