1. |
Caligula Fairgrounds
03:24
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Pushing the lover violently out of her. Manning my own sledge first in a long time. We play victim in reverse. Twin sets of red horns emerge from the rubble of palm‑smashed temple. Slumped in a gutter where concrete drops. Flossing grey mud out from under fingernails with steel‑wool‑fiber. Believing sensations ascertained from the petals that fell from cupped hands and sitting directly on a spool of razor‑wire are not mutually exclusive. Looks like the roof has been burned off. I've been running my tongue over insulation, patting down the spongy‑pink. Sometimes we rape each other
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2. |
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Manhole lid handcuffs stifle blacktop cadence. Throat song mimics your soul being hanged at the gates of a hollow Gehenna. Innocence is arson is innocence. A conscience true to dread. The best friends i've ever had i've me through taxidermy. Canker spores smearing omnisexual gelatin like a puzzle ready to wear so it can't help but be solved. Centipede effigy fragrance welcomed with wilding inhales. Scorpions are the rubber of my intestine tread. I thought we were legion. "Only when the jade will back". Hive‑eye locked on the burning from whence it came. I play every face because occasionally it's better being someone else, even if it's always me.
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3. |
Scarecrow Revolt
03:21
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Take one breath. One deep breath. As if it were the last thing on a long list of regrets. As if the grievances were part of the procrastination. A broken appendage you didn’t ignore, but didn’t bother to mend. It was only a mild twinge. Some sliver of wood or metal. Not being a splinter or a spike made it all the more infectious. A phantom trivial enough to be worthy of the name. On some days it can be called heartache. On good days it can be a death in the family. And on those days I will cackle as scarecrows do. Silent. Unsettling. Only for you.
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4. |
Optimum Hearse
02:29
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The scenery ruins me. Stiff little motions in my stomach read like a boulders circling a desolate orb. Atavism radiates a bone season languor...a revulsion to useless to vanish. She sings “Never is the equivalent of eternity in the form of No”. Her skin wears what my body hides. Titanium stemmed fabrics, post‑rainfall brittle, radiating Samhain when dusted in the casually flicked embers of a cloven nail.. Soul is a cone to nowhere
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The Communion
"The Communion (Long Island, NY) don't linger in one spot long enough to be easily defined or categorized. The metal/hardcore quartet can create angst-ridden explosions that make most power electronics bands seem "light," then on to black metal shrieking and blast-beat takeoffs that are just as easily swapped out for classic hardcore 2/4, and swinging sludge riffs akin to Eyehategod. -Wm. Berger ... more
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