Pill Poppers of Late Capitalism
Pink tab on my tongue
splits in half, my daily bread;
double-helix cotton candy twisted
through my blood income
Orange pill, sponge cake fantasy,
edible pheromone highs tripping
over each other to shine brightest
in veins where love is made to order.
White and yellow pills packed
in ancap land, labour paid in emotion
immaterial in your prescription;
you label my nightmares utopia.
Downing soma cocktails to drown
in psychosomatic complacency,
attuned to this tuneless march
that rings noiseless souldeathknells
By Prem Sylvester
Prem Sylvester is an Indian writer who turns into words the ideas he catches a whiff of from time to time. Sometimes people read these words. His work has appeared in Memoir Mixtapes and Rigorous, and in national media platforms like The Hindu and Buzzfeed India.
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