izprijenostь, UgUrGkuliktavikt, unknown artist, artist unknown
Four blades coming down upon the spine of the real,
the fertile decomposition leaking / breeding / dribbling from the wounds,
world-spiders forcing their way through the twitching meat,
fauna screaming its own expiration
swarming noises sullen noises wet noises electriiiiiiiiiiiIIIICkkkSSSS noiseS.
four plagues
four slugs
four plague-slugs softly softly softly flooding over your carcasses
The raw / rabid / hypnagogic / larval Black Ambient of izprijenostь
The diseased bruitist anti-music of Sir Kuliktavikt
and ThEsE 2 OthHhHERR vaguely-sonic entities (that will remain unknown forevermore) whose very existence remains a matter of the foulest superstition.
no songs here perhaps
no sound perhaps
only the wet machinery beneath things
only the cavity left when reality has finished eating itself
COME
tear the bark from the dead worlds
peel peel peel peel
until there is no underneath
and drink
straight from the ruptured eye
of the treetops.
DRINK UNTIL THE SKY IS HOLLOW.
-Sir Kuliktavikt
