i once thought that if i listened to a song enough times,
then perhaps i would become like that song,
one with that song,
and i wouldn’t have to worry about identity anymore,
because it would be solidified in the gelatin of harmony
olivia puts down the magazine she had been reading for the past half hour when her name is called. she looks around to confirm that there are no other olivia’s in the room that the stern looking woman with brunette hair pulled back too tightly might be referring to.
no one else budges. so olivia continues to get up from her sedentary position. her joints in her leg creak a little. her knees feel stale. her skin tightens with horripilation. as she walks over to the large metallic swinging doors, she thinks, i forgot to eat breakfast. but she didn’t need to, either way.
after watching 10 documentaries about cults
in the span of 48 hours,
i’ve come to realize that the modern blueprint to any cult
is to quote any wachowski sister’s movie ad nauseam
and recruit mostly attractive people to make your religion
seem more like a fun weekend party
more so than a brainwashing, life-sucking cult,
and also, i think i realize
that i might already be in a cult,
so there’s that…
Fred Aiken Writing 