Anchoring this hankering is a bullet from the LED.
Washing through the soundscapes comes a dream from the TV.
Incisions barrel through me and carry my head out the door.
Taking away my thoughts, replacing them with ink blots.
Showing the growing possibility of an endless catacomb.
Selling the feeling of being dead right inside your home.
The feeling, the feeling arrives without us reeling in the experience.
They made us thieves.