FF=66

(He invites the storm.

He lives by instinct,

with fears that are not fears,

but prickles of ecstacy.)

This code is cracked!

I don't expect

whatever I spat out to stick

awash in the signs,

sick from the lack.

Spliced in,

spliced in

second-hand words and screen for skin.

Forcing out sounds,

facing outside

again.

Reified and refined,

blurring every line.

Just want a way not to be what gets sold to me.

FF=66 explains you're sick.

Spins on the axis od promise

and lick lack luck

reveals all tricks.