fear street box office
The white man thinks that he can control the
World through his antiquity, through the blood
In his dirty veins. The white man goes to
The theatre to watch horror movies

Where other white men’s houses are run over
By strange, leering monsters that eat at his
Table that twist the necks of his children
That rape his wife that he alone must stop

He watches movies where the aliens
Descend upon him from other worlds, distant
Moons, and offer no peace, or false peace, in
The face of which other white men, or

At least functionally white men must band
Together as heroes. He watches shows
Where virus overtakes the world and turns
All to mindlessness where dusty zombies

Flood his towns, black teeth clear when they rip his
Flesh. White man fears, he fears. The white man tends
To his lawns and cars, the white man drinks beer
With his friends the white man sits in cafés

And train stations with his cards sound in his
Pocket, and when he wants to he turns on
Other white men in the streets who have no
Lawns to tend, or cards, only folded dollar

Bills and matted hair, or he turns on the
White men who have committed the sin of
Having no wives to rape, holding onto
The sanctity of his own marriage, his

Property, the white man signs his vows like
Business deals he professes his good love
He works long hours to fuck his mistress
The white man pins his name to his chattel

There is no one thing more traitorous than
The white man there is no single thing more
Hypocritical, there is no one thing
Which sees that which is not its own and says

As angrily as him that things ought be
Put right in their places that all the world
Should be set straight and fine as a bone, strong
As a bone, healthy white as a bone

Horror of horrors to find a monster
In your home, a foreigner razing your
Land, a virus breaking your fellows, o!
Horror of horrors there might be a man

Unalike himself, there might be guilt in
Every action, the sins of past fathers
Clouding the doorstep. Horror of horrors
To imagine what is different with

Its claims lain upon your dark head, what is
Different forever is the white man;
Into his world we must contort ourselves

And still he fears