Arteries of light forming synchronous patterns in a fragile world unitized by jagged glissandos. Chaotic onslaughts of filthy religious sodomy and impulse public perversion. Parapet pigs on the outskirts of Stockholm are growling, slaughter by the seashore.
It’s easier to modify a plethora of philosophies from performances, than it is to change a plethora of performances from philosophies. It’s easier to recreate yourself into a new kind of thinking, than it is to rethink yourself into a new kind of creature.
As the living strive to preserve what the dead lost, an embassy’s raging through the shadows searching for its kingdom with the silhouette of a young girl dancing upon the beach at night. Sit back and swallow the horror watch the burning fireflies weightless quiver.
Eternal night penetrated by sadistic present, violet green lightening-bug vein filling heat. Play with the perverted puzzles; just remember to put the bits back in place.
One hundred pints of Guinness and one hundred borrowed tools and Beach Boys records played backwards before inspiration finally twirled itself into consistence.
Is knowledge a constant substance, is my mind expanding or is the world around it shrinking?
Is deconstruction the only way to construct? Is Ronnie Van Zant really from Florida?