Everything I Say is Meant to Frighten You

Everything I say is meant to frighten you. Are you scared? I've been talking for awhile and you've been listening, but you don't look scared. This you not being scared and my attempts to frighten is starting to annoy me. What the hell is wrong with you? Kids these days! No appreciation of subtlety, no knowledge, brains full like a hopper stuffed with disjointed images. Should I just swear and scream like a blithering idiot? Then you say we should just make love now, and I agree. We walk to your flat, and as we go in, you say your older brother spent your whole childhood terrifying you with his stories and you believed every one of them. As a yellow moon comes up over the rooftops, as seen from your window, you relate to me his litanies of horror.