Retro Paranoia

4 June 2025

The undead ghost of god howls over our
heads but we cannot hear. He screams into

the abyss. Yawns over the lives he once
controlled. The spirit cleaved from the

corpse of what he once was. Now decaying,
in ruins like his altars. The pews empty and

hearts cold but he still prefers cash over
hearts as his preferred weekly offering.