1. |
Veneer of Civilization
02:45
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the blade grinds against the flint of my tongue
the spark of the creature
tell me I bear witness
to all life happening to death
the only war which can truly know me
is a violent push caressing the animal
I compel you to yield to every soul-corrupting impulse
the alchemy of dead-sweat breaching the chalice lip
as the blade grinds against the flint of my tongue
the spark of the creature in catalyzed saliva
gangrenous domestication pared from the skin
the ripping of the false canvas in blatant seance
to nurse a bloodlust cradled in the silk of a coffin-worm
towers of relinquished limbs, canopy sewn in napalm
red eyes glare in sensationless melancholy
the Veneer of Civilization
mask of all crime yet to be named
a violent push for war should truly know me
I can almost taste the warmth fleeing their blood
the blade grinds
flay your skin
devour its fruit
blaspheme yourself
and become god
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2. |
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mankind’s final emotion revealed to me at first sight
fanaticized by self and stricken with narcissism
a humanized devil is extracted from their core
piety begotten of the same indisputable evil
summoned from within, a rubber-stamped redemption
a humanized devil extracted from the core
nothing human is alien to me
Satan Sum
from whom Hell shall never depart
reveal to me the enemy of the entire human race
then erect from me a demon to scapegoat everyday
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3. |
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fighting to be beaten, taxing every ending
reaping enrichment in all of your grief
expire permits within my grasp
culled in bloodrich finality
commiserate pretemporal emanations of abscission alms
duality of depletion, razors accent the palms
mine is the hand from which expire permits
Noblesse Oblige of a Grave Robber Baron
the take is all I give
there is no more dying which could ever enrich me
machineries of catacombs churn in my charity
that black-blooded engine of the world which bears my
name, roars the benefaction of certain perish
fighting to be beaten, taxing every ending
reaping enrichment in all of your grief
take is all I give
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4. |
The Portal Wound
01:35
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the room fills with me, once again
sentenced to the pendulum chamber
collarbones hooked in suspension
open the Portal Wound
the bottomless threshold of pain
all flesh perforated from feeling
every agony ever endured
compartmentalized into a single moment
sliced from its spime, a wound so vast
the origin of time itself cannot cauterize
the negation of the senseless
falling to rebirth
void into me
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SLUGCRUST South Carolina
Disinterred from the vermin-saturated remains of upstate South Carolina, SLUGCRUST ignites the relentlessly rampant, orn'ry-toned sound of true southern grind.
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