The Movement of Fear
We are a great school of fish.
Teenager proxy finds the way in—into the circle of grace—plants the seeds of dissension.
Chances are it won’t be us.
Teenager strange face finds a rat covered in grim ichor—wants to spread the triumph of the will over all bully boys—heads for the resevoir.
Turn quickly for the safety of that shoal.
Teenager hooktooth finds the dentist’s scalers arrayed before him—pockets them—slips out the back door.
Predators must be sated.
Teenager piston-thumbs spiral-eyed at the first-person shooter simulacrum—too good for simulation—ferrets out the family arsenal. Gym bags: 1, 2, 3. Off and away in the family wagon.
This is the movement of fear.
What I’m Reading:
“Nothing would be as we hoped it would be, here in the first draft of existence. People were finally beginning to catch on. Our rage made perfect sense.”
—Sheila Heti / Pure Colour