There is no Satan in this movie. There is however, some sort of alien vampire god whose apparent ambition in life is to turn our reality into a semi-serviceable facsimile of a reasonably higher-end Italian Bistro fueled by what is really a paltry amount of blood sacrifice through knife-play if by 'knives' you mean crescent moon medallions worn over ruffly tuxedo shirts by which you bleed and by which means you consume the blood of others and really like it…

MOBIL MARATHON WAFFLE HOUSE

EXXON/EXXON/EXXON

end of an era/end of reality

MOVING MOUTH/LAVA WAX

bloodwave/

leached bisphenol drool

NEVER go into the room, not even for Shark Week. It isn't your fault. You never deserved this. You never had this coming. A pharmaceutical spill, zebrafish neurons bloom then wilt, leaving crumbling caves like broken chocolate rabbit hollows, garrotted open.

xxl t-shirt makes a fine dress, dried kayro flip-flop regrettable substitution flaking off onto shag carpenting never in focus, never to…

When I was an agoraphobic psychotic 13 year old in 1987, my most prized possession was a VHS tape I had made myself by recording David Cronenberg's The Fly and Aliens off of HBO. I watched those movies over and over. I barely went to school that fall. I had not finished the end of 7th Grade because incarcerated in a for-profit psychiatric hospital for children, let out to go to an academic summer program, which was a bad idea…