Can you hear me? Turn the volume up. Closer. ... BOO. You should've left the channel OFF. There's a WHISPER in the WALLS and it's CALLING out your FAILURES, A SCRATCHING at the CEILING from the things you thought you BURIED — Every HALLWAY getting NARROW, every SHADOW growing TALLER, You keep RUNNING but the FOOTSTEPS right behind you — NEVER STALLING. I'm the THING beneath your BED that you pretend is just the WEATHER, The CREAK inside the FLOORBOARD, the COLD that lasts FOREVER — I'm the NAME you never MENTION at the TABLE with your PEOPLE, 'Cause you KNOW if you say it TWICE — I COME through like a SEQUEL. Lock the DOORS, I'm in the MIRRORS, Close your EYES, I'm getting NEARER — Check your PHONE, the screen says BLOCKED But every TEXT is from a DEAD MAN WALKING. You deleted me from CONTACTS, I UPLOADED to your CONSCIENCE, You can MUTE me, you can BLOCK me, but I'm HARDWIRED in your NONSENSE — I'm the VIRUS in your SYSTEM that no ANTIDOTE can PROCESS, I'm not HAUNTING you — I AM the HAUNTING. Get the CONCEPT? LIGHTS OUT — do you HEAR that BREATHING? TURN AROUND — there's a REASON you're not SLEEPING — I'm the DEAD CHANNEL no one's RECEIVING, But the SIGNAL never STOPPED and now the WALLS are BLEEDING. Tick-TOCK, three AM, DOOR KNOCK, who's THERE — NOBODY — but the AIR just got COLDER on the STAIRWELL, Your REFLECTION blinked BEFORE you, MIRROR cracked WITHOUT a TOUCH, Tell me — if I'm DEAD then why you SCARED so f***ing MUCH? I'm in the GLITCH between your RINGTONE and the SILENCE, In the FLICKER of the LIGHTBULB right before the act of VIOLENCE — I'm the NIGHTMARE that you WAKE from but the ROOM still LOOKS the SAME, And the HANDPRINT on the WINDOW? Yeah — it's SPELLED out in your NAME. I was QUIET when they KILLED me, I was PATIENT when they FILLED the GRAVE with ROSES and APOLOGIES and Instagram REELS of "RIP the HOMIE" — cute performance, STANDING OVATION, But the CREDITS didn't ROLL 'cause the DEAD don't take VACATIONS. LIGHTS OUT — do you HEAR that BREATHING? TURN AROUND — there's a REASON you're not SLEEPING — I'm the DEAD CHANNEL no one's RECEIVING, But the SIGNAL never STOPPED and now the WALLS are BLEEDING. See the thing about a GHOST is — we don't WANT your ATTENTION, We just LIVE inside the TENSION of the THINGS you never MENTIONED — Every LIE you told about me ECHOES in a DIFFERENT DIMENSION, And I FEED on your PRETENSION like it's PREMIUM SUBSCRIPTION. You built your LIFE on top of MY GRAVE thinking it was OVER, Threw a PARTY on my TOMBSTONE, popped a BOTTLE, called it CLOSURE — But the GROUND beneath you's CRACKING and you FEEL it, don't you, SOLDIER? That's not EARTHQUAKE — that's me WAKING and the TEMPERATURE'S getting COLDER. I don't SCREAM — I just APPEAR in every ROOM you feel ALONE in, I don't CHASE — I'm already THERE before you START your RUNNING — I don't HAUNT — I just EXIST in every FAILURE you keep FRONTING, I'm the TRUTH you buried SIX FEET that keeps KNOCKING, keeps COMING. ... You thought this was a song? No. This is a séance. And you just answered. Every NIGHT you check the LOCKS — that's me. Every SOUND you can't EXPLAIN — that's me. Every CHILL that hits your SPINE when the room is WARM — that's me. I'm not the MONSTER in the STORY. I'm the STORY that won't END. Dead Channel. Still TRANSMITTING. Close your eyes. I DARE you. [End]
