horror movie novelisations

there’s something oddly soothing  
about prose that describes ghoulies
attacking young people,
not characters but archetypes,
the stud neutered by grandpa’s axe,
the dream demon who on a screen
would be dripping like pizza grease,
and now in stolid text holds up
the babe with dyed blonde hair,
to show her things that Bosch  
would have called too gauche…
 
but I can’t say such pleasures are admirable.