Vicious

This thing is going to come for us all.

Red Forest (1970) by Max Ernst

I don’t want to do my job today. I just want the rhythm of the hunt in my ears, speaking in tongues across the dry miles, reminding me of the viciousness inside my veins. Fog hangs over the mountains, then pulls its blanket over the sun. I try to be virtuous and write my book, but I’m tired of giving you everything. Better …