Culture

We are all in our own little
cults. Sun. Moon. Heaven’s
gates. We all meet strangers
with something to sell: baubles,
trinkets, ways of life, carrying
around briefcases, or wrapped
in white robes, trying to wriggle
these people into our grasp,
little games of thumb war.
Talking to you is black ops,
all sneak and spook and
night vision, a necessary
evil. You want the truth?
Truth is, you couldn’t handle
it any more than I could.
You and I are like a video
I saw on YouTube once,
a praying mantis stumbling,
smashed over and over
by a merciful human hand.
Watch as a long, thin string
of blackness winds its way
out of the crushed abdomen,
dancing an occult dance
to a tune only it can hear.

We are all in our own little
life cycles. The Kool-Aid
wants so badly to be drunk.

About Alex Manley

Alex Manley lives in Montreal. His work has appeared in Shabby Doll House, Banango Street, Everyday Genius and Maisonneuve Magazine. He can also be found on Twitter.

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