I’m fearful you can see through my disguise

Aren’t my eyes black enough to realize

My costume seems not at all pretty

But leaves the questions to come

From what it was that sat upon my hair

My outfit is purple and black

And I think this witch attack is plenty full

To consume my week in trickery

and suits My desires

to cast out spells and dish out

What you eat

Come try my soup

It will leave you

With a taste too much to handle

Is it oregano? Or chives?

Or maybe its guts and tongues

From pests below

Spun into this web

Of widows dreary drips of goo

Don’t be afraid

You’re hair might fall out

But it’ll keep you awake all week long

All it takes is once cup

Mmmm…  good

My slimly slippery dead beasts