1. |
I
05:46
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Screaming up at the sky whilst cursing an immaculate creator, __ expected the same reaction – a frantic silence. Destitute, with exception of the sickening howls of thoughtless breath from the Earth itself. This time was different however. The Earth seemed to slow the rhythmic heart-beat wind to a flat line. Even the silence always surrounding seemed to have stopped. __ wondered to their-self, through other panicked thoughts, if the world had just muted, or paused altogether.
Nothing seemed to move or sway, even a fear induced fight or flight response to the oddity was left vacant.
Aligned to chaos in a photograph; ever-present without any action.
Arduous as it is, __ would use this to release the pain gathered and built up over time before it is able to solidify as a permanent stone in their stomach, used to weigh down into the depths of a hatred they’d never return from.
High enough to gaze a sea of wave-like tree tops, now in stasis; blended and smeared like an oil painting.
the realization of an unnatural brightness
Colors, objects, bleeding, morphing [into the] abstract. Soon unrecognizable, terrifying moments [from then that this light would swallow even that.]
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2. |
II
03:21
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Abstract-to-nothingness.
The brightness took over everything, even the physical senses of the one atop a great mountain. __ couldn’t tell if they were standing upright or floating in spirals. The only thing certain was the redlining heart rate and the feeling as if the ribcage would give way, allowing it to make a deadly leap. Some semblance of humanity was restored when __ felt a drop fall onto their forehead. The impossibility of seeing one’s own hand didn’t stop from having enough awareness to trace a finger over the droplet. Pulling it into their eye line, __ was permitted to see what had struck. Before erratic eyes, a floating drop of blood. Both the darkest, deepest, most vibrant scarlet red.
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3. |
III
02:47
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A tear in the sky surprised the already terrified person, instinctively looking away from the ruby red glow. Studying this contrasting bolt of darkness, __ went to look back at the blood for a moment, but it had disappeared.
“merely a glimpse... into another universe - been and gone.”
Two grizzly looking hands abound with eyes that stare, angry and hostile; barely blinking.
All too quickly, darkness enveloped light
delirious tunnel vision, with eyes clenched tight.
Wishing, nearly praying this was nothing more than a terrible dream.
“Be silent. Be still.”
“Look up. Gaze unto me and see everything you’ve ever known and felt.”
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4. |
IV
03:04
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These words boomed across a depleted galaxial plain, but still had a sharpness to it, like that of the crack of a whip.
It’s webbed feet, with mixed patches of scale and fur, had talons for toe nails which looked perfect for ripping apart living prey. Moving up the scales ceased at the ankle and would lead to fully fur-covered, thick, muscular legs who’s anatomy likened more so to a dog, even werewolf, than man. Though this abstract construction of a living organism was clearly bare of any kind of covering, there lied truly bizarre aspects to its design; most peculiarly of all perhaps would be the pubic region. Rather than having any kind of sign of a traditional genitalia, the area was stripped of fur outwards to the hips, but there was still something else. patterning - the human brain.
Jesus Christ Pose.
the body of a beaten soul, plentiful with numerous deep slashes. Veins were dark with bad blood
Alongside the deep cuts, a horrifying hole of cauterized flesh exposes in its cavity, a still-beating heart.
this Monster’s heartbeat was right there, hand-in-hand with __’s.
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5. |
V
04:34
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__ shot their glance upwards, ready to jump into questioning this Abomination, however, for what seemed like a perpetual cycle, freezes when trying to lock eyes with it. Finding themself looking into two unknowingly deep sockets, on a face that is rotting from the center outwards. The nose had fully fallen away, as was the flesh surrounding the jaw, though the cheeks and forehead had an intricate webbing of tattered and torn flesh binding together. The resemblance of human tissue, almost becoming full formed at where the hairline should be, had been interrupted by an imbedded crown of sorts. Growing from its own head, this cancerous mutation lifted itself into spires that almost seemed to be decaying skyscrapers, crumbling away as if the remnants of a lost civilization that had ended from mass destruction.
__ briefly thought, “is this a sign of what’s to come in the future of civilization?” Quickly, they shook the thought and went back to the task of figuring out just where to look at this Beast, seemingly looking back.
Confused whether to look into the chasm for eyes, they remember the first visual confirmation of this thing was a set of hands and arms decorated in eyes. However, the eyes placed here were all cold, hate-filled and unblinking in their rage. Finally __, brimming with fright and uncertainty, slowly closed their eyes, took a deep breath, then exhaled the only question they could muster through all these emotions.
“What the fuck are you?”
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6. |
Erode (bonus track)
03:20
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Reigning on a mound of dirt, ascended from a flame in which bears no light.
Where the iron strikes stones that bleed, and they become so soaked. Putrid. Spreads disease. Infected pleas.
The stature on which anyone dares stand on is so frail; the foundation long cracked to its core, chunks fall apart and litter the ground.
Cupped hands carrying water offer you to drink, but erosion from constant refills has withered them to open sores, tainting the essence with bile.
Drink. Drink it anyway.
Unable to see the well behind your mound, there is no way to sustain such a treacherous fuel source. Watch the lesions form alongside the boils which burst with gangrene. Feel the ticks borrow into what little fresh flesh is left, as parasitic worms take what little nutrient hangs on.
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7. |
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Skin flayed in the name of searching for the truth.
Drowned to be sure the devil inside be destroyed. Bloodlet dry to starve hungry demons.
Death by a thousand cuts, to channel your suffering to Beelzebub.
Burned alive. Buried smouldering. – Annihilated Saints. Dead and gone.
Ground steeped in rage. Lead blindly by a force which robs you of all your senses. A whisper coming out of the mouths of madness, into the minds of the sick; a sickness not seen. Contuse. A wretchedness which can be felt staring into the hearts of man. With all this negative space, death and destruction, sorrow and lament – a reflection.
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8. |
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Rushing through veins pulled from fresh flesh is the essence which tarnishes all surrounding with arterial spray.
Straw men held up with a stranger's tendons, stitched together.
Afraid to stand alone, condemned to sitting on the shoulder of giants.
Made a passenger of a life, convinced the helm is ready at your hand; steadfast affirmation.
Declaration of your potency, inward cloaking of impotency. Subtlety: the lost artform. Prodigious: the standard norm.
Hate, berate, flinging shit like an ill tempered ape. Crying tears from blinded eyes to fill a cup already to the brim. Wrapping joy in chains and burying it in the earth, deep enough to stay lost forever.
Old souls carrying the ways of olden times, dismantling the new experience before giving the chance to dote upon.
These weak bloodlines mustn't survive.
This sick pedigree of souls must die.
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Trenchlung Windsor, Ontario
Dissonant Mathcore.
Based out of Canada and Australia.
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