Steel wool skies scrape my iris raw... The factory whistle sings the cripple's hymn... Last rites dispensed by vending machine light... Insert coin to see God's bones... Razor-wire lullabies suture my veins shut, Each scar a bar code for the discount bin saints. The CCTV prophets chant 'sanctus' in static Their Divine Algorithm scans my bartered pain. FUCK THIS WORLD codeine and crucifix rot FUCK THIS WORLD your rapture is a parking lot FUCK THIS WORLD the hounds of wage howl my name FUCK THIS WORLD I am the ghost in your RAM The pharmacy fluorescents hum a false dawn, Pill-crush rituals in Styrofoam cathedrals. My bloodstream a broken conveyor belt, Shipping expired hope to cardiac arrest. The nurse’s smile clicks like a safety off, Her clipboard hymns list my organs as ‘surplus stock’... FUCK THIS WORLD codeine and crucifix rot FUCK THIS WORLD your rapture is a parking lot FUCK THIS WORLD the hounds of wage howl my name FUCK THIS WORLD I am the ghost in your RAM The scalpel's kiss writes hymns in negative... My ribcage an elevator shaft for flies... They tattooed the emergency exit on my wrists... But all doors lead back to the crushing machine... They wired my jaw shut with IV morphine suture, Dreams render in pixelated noose-knots. The suicide hotline plays Vivaldi’s ‘Winter’ on hold, While my ib cage broadcasts emergency test patterns… Last rites administered via ATM receipt, TRANSACTION CANCELLED: INSUFFICIENT PAIN FUCK THIS WORLD codeine and crucifix rot FUCK THIS WORLD your rapture is a parking lot FUCK THIS WORLD the hounds of wage howl my name FUCK THIS WORLD I am the ghost in your RAM
