Caesura Vol. IV
An Apocalypse of Zombie Malls J.V. Sumpter In your city’s dead (or dying) mall, the carousel horses have come unmoored. They go bobbing past the Food Court, chased by broken music. When they find the mannequin children, their madness will, for a time, abate. Of course, human likenesses won’t spit on you, or kick you, or perform any of the annoyances necessary for love. It is recommended you leave your city before the carousel horses find this out, run out of substitutes for real human touch. Let’s all blame Jeff Bezos. It’s easier that way. Meanwhile, the massage chairs
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