On the Altar of Heaven and Objectivity

To fear the contraption
Is unholy
Why cringe at the thing
That will remove what ails you?

Your expression isn’t improving
Indeed it’s only darkening
This seems like a malady I can’t cure
The petulance
The cringing
They are symptoms of a wraith-like madness

Were you bitten by a wraith lately?
A phantasm or perhaps a different form of otherness?
Prognosis isn’t good
Let’s pray to the gods of science
After all, they are the sages that have made this couch and even your cringing possible



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