Sadism isn’t missing from the system anymore;
It’s propping up the walls
And spreading across the floor;
Its tales are scraped onto the slate tiles that line the roof
And its proof is in the loft stopping any draughts of laughter
From entering the shelter of the room.
Its wickedness sticks paper to the inside of the windows
And the drapes that used to go there
Have been torn down
To adorn the mounting body count
That doubles as the daily hub of life
Slides further from the middle of its purpose.
And every space awaits the moment
When its use will be requested by a message
Whose breath tastes like death’s average blessing,
And crafty draughtsmen plan expansions
For new sins to advance into
Regardless of objections from old tenants;
As the seediest of media barons,
Debt bound and surrounded by abysmal ministries,
Advertise for new lives to occupy the properties,
And stacks of applicants subscribe
Because the loss of one more island of existence
Is nothing compared to an apartment with a view,
And who are we be vessels in the chest
Of greater beings who breathe best when the air
Is full of swollen molecules
Whose dull and hollow souls have sold their homes
To know more pleasure than their measure
Was ever meant to entertain.
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