Cavity infecting homo sapiens, turning them into zombies… and we’re the only ones left with the antibody… Slipped into attention warren where validation’s aerosolized, poisoning the air, one hit at a time, lungs coated in chemical praise. Unable to realize we’re slipping into a paradise of concise lies, thumb necrosis, scroll paralysis, endless refresh loop, endless scrolling snoop, spinning like a hula hoop Every wound repackaged, every breakdown turned content fuel, Beauty becomes a duel — perfect image, but we're no fool. They weaponize their damage for clout and verified checks, flipping hurt into spectacles of rage, curated collapse in fifteen-second wrecks, Tentacles locked on applause, strangled in the haze See ’em — sympathy-scammers, trauma-tourists, cashing in on pain like it’s souvenir kitsch. But when the real thing hits they vanish, Virtue vultures circling, picking at fresh wreckage, hollering over ruin like an addictive pill of solace. All must pass quality control; if not it feeds the troll “Healing journey” branded, monetized by morning, microscopic bruises advertised, concentration seeking, comment-section eulogies, performative grief porn, appropriate conduct must be shown. Everybody’s savior till the next trend gets reborn. I reject the serum, spit the poison from my teeth — this antibody logic won’t let the infection breathe. I’m the phantom-limb logic of a forsaken prophet, aching for a world that the algorithm forgot. Feel me in the silence when the likes finally die, I’m the fracture you can’t patch, the truth in the lie. Ledgers bleeding, phantom carts zero, fingers hammering retail therapy for bankrupt soul already collapsing Swipe left on existence, right on the next distraction, every corner is a surge of dopamine injection, notifications detonate chemical chain reactions. They sold us connection in measured data packets, everything feels real until the signal breaks now we’re all fiends trading real life for the avatar racket. I’m the resistance in the current, the refusal in the choir, the voice that says “delete” when the whole grid catches fire. Sympathy-scammers reloaded, trauma-tourists upgraded, new coat of paint on the same rotting cage they paraded. I'm rejecting the synthetic endorphin, left alone in the margins. I’m the white blood cell count spiking in the mainframe, purging the sickness running through the bloodstain. No savior complex — just antibodies in the vein. swimming against the current, away from the approval claim. If the swarm turns toxic, I’m the fever and the flame. Antibody… the logic… Antibody… the tragic… Reject… reject… reject…
