No Title

June 11, 2009 at 9:59 am (Uncategorized)

Dark and musky basements around the world fill with the smell of incense and skunk. Hums of bloody knifes rang in the foreground of white noise as the ritual unfolded. It’s a spell, a summoning. Acid laced treats passed around in an abandon mint tins, visions of walruses dilate in unsteady eyes. Participant link up to create an international web of will. 10:48pm strikes and the worshipers start to chant. That moment the bullet hit flesh, it’s the moment of his ascension. The book of Vinyl foretold of December 8th, destiny decreed it, which was the day a common bug became a divinity.

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2 Comments

  1. jeremy pair said,

    Great imagery man.

  2. Auntie Sew Shell said,

    such beautiful word weaving.. truly.

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