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a world
that burns the roof of your mouth
so hair-like slithers of skin
dangle from the point of the pain.
Here you will find
a whole array of shops
lit up in near-perpetuity,
a flock of migrating zombie geese
dropping their acid shit
over semi-deserted conurbations,
people selling body and soul
to be come those who haunt:
this purgatory,
which is the only form
of immortality, complete
in its wretchedness.
Others polish their possessions;
cars, watches, gadgets,
before stuffing them into the earth
and falling in with them
down to the muddy richness
of disintegration
before they are disinterred
at the penultimate station,
where the burnt arched roof
is under permanent repair.