Plastic Swans

A swan swallows small plastic particles with each piece of the bread I'm throwing into the water near it. Each particle helps to slowly build a clear, deadly coating for the inside of the swan's stomach. The unintended cruelty that only occurs to me after I have tossed the last morsel over the guardrail. My solution being to do a painting or write about it. The swan looks happy enough, but that's just me anthropomorphizing it. I'm putting a smile on it's beak every time I look.

These small plastic particles will eventually find their way into the world's largest ocean, where they will be caught in it's strongest currents and carried deep down into it's own organs where they shall harm and even kill anything bigger than a plastic particle. They are changing the water's composition. More literal than anything Disney has ever done, that which composes 60% of our bodies is turning to plastic. We are turning into plastic.

Trying a thing

And the piano played.

He stepped out of his house into a crumbling world. Clouds rolled by and cast shadows on all our mistakes as we committed them.

We should be committed.

Birds overhead, fools below.

Every one of his actions set off complex sequences of events which all contributed to entropy, but he did them anyway.

His nerves were electric and directionless when they weren’t numb and still. Everything ran on a gradient, or so it seemed, and binary fantasies plagued him.

Heroic anger was his deepest vice. Sanitized visions of a post-apocalyptic world were his dearest fantasies, but for the odd passion play now and then.

His every step was taken in a powerful stride. Many people looked at him as he passed by. They just looked. Air passed through his nose and told him popular secrets.

The man he hated went about his own days unawares of how he would be completed.

No matter how far he walked, fury’s undertow was always strong enough to pull him under.

He wasn’t the toughest, but he was tough enough for the task at hand. He would complete the grinning, pudgy hedonist. He would purge this feeling from himself and stab it directly between the jackanapes’s every joint, then pry him apart.

Terrible and sublime and all points between, this feeling pounded down upon him and seeped into every nook and cranny. 3000 miles between them hadn’t been too little a space for it to fill. He kept his screams for nobody but himself – his jaw would surely dislocate if he tried to vocalize them.