Vibe and context conspire a furious paranoid of second millennial flux. Irretrievable matter, lost to ignorance of self. Lag behind drag the urn to the cesspool of indecision. Imagine a living hell and conjure up a reality with the defeatist signpost leading the way down there. Antagonistic welts and boils, festering wounds, dry heavy bones, and claustrophobia.
There's no sacred time or place. The fluid and animate takes no president. Not even the rocks are safe from these trashy ideals, nothings inanimate enough to avoid the gears of industrial slavery. Its gotta be a vibrato, a humm, a wavlength the dogs cant hear. That alpha/delta brainwave inducing activity.
No forced magmatism, digital demonification, bottled, or canned evils. Just the loving search for what glows black.