Midnight sedatives in unmarked vans, Concrete confessional where time expands. Walls sweat gasoline, a third-degree dawn, Measured in cigarettes, the lies are drawn. TORTURER No names left just numbers, TORTURER The lightbulb’s kiss – your only sunrise, TORTURER TORTURER Fourth-degree dawn, the lies coagulate, Fingernail mosaics decorate the grate. They’ll say you jumped, but stairs have no windows, Cranial spray patterns contradict it all, A testament to the shadows that fall. Protocol demands the tape recorder dies first. Blindfold slackens? That’s when it gets worse... Teeth on the desk like bureaucratic candy, The ceiling fan’s weight calculates your penalty. One last joke about your children’s photos, Before the pneumatic press whispers ‘adhuc mutus’ A final jest before the silence grows. TORTURER No names left just numbers, TORTURER The fan’s rotation = eternity, TORTURER TORTURER The dentist's drill sings Morse in D-sharp minor Transmitting to ghosts on SW band 666 One-way mirror fogs with final syllables Your retina's last frame: our patch jacket in the evidence locker Signed in aqueous humor and filed under "N" for Never Existed TORTURER No names left just numbers, TORTURER The fan’s rotation = eternity, TORTURER TORTURER
