televangelist

my heart is gonna eat itself, i don't need anybody's help, it's just me, the vacant and nobody else, at least that's what i tell myself, 'cause i'm an amputee, with a phantom touch, leaning on an invisible crutch, pinned to the mattress like an insect to styrofoam, calling out from my bedroom alone, and i know what's in my cannibal chest, that's been dug out like a strip mine till there's nothing left, hold the chorus in between my ears until i go deaf, that remind me exactly what i am every chance they get, am i a masochist, screaming televangelist, clutching my crucifix, of white noise and static, all my prayers are just apologies, hold out a flare until you come for me, do i turn into light if i burn alive