She told me about it and the day it went too far and they all realised too late
eyes shut lights out the wolves stalking falling and rising to join the pack one by one small noises in the dark until there's one left knowing she's hunted and feeling frantically at the walls
It took breaking and shaking for the others to realise
Kids are the original wolves, the pack
they know how it works
instinctively

I watched a conversation
about crying, seeing a woman crying outside a meat shop, and how you would go about making someone cry, why you would want to, and kids again- how they do it just to see what will happen, or even less considered than that: blindly following inner promptings.
Another conversation: people who choose not to move forward, and instead are consumed by their own brand of madness.
Some days there's a madness in the air and a tinge of orange in our auras and i remember the horrible things
Those days life seems like a game called wolves