gashes in the earth where oil pours through, extra virgin, they crave the mother mary, they crave the unfiltered, yet-to-be-pillaged. the game is to crack every egg, slice every throat, maggots packaged in all-inclusive brain vacations and corrosion eaters dining on planets, dining on mercury, dining on krill and scarlet and sabres and folds of goose blankets. we scab over with rings of scabbard trees. we peel away their bark. unsubmit your forms, unsign yourself, exfoliate their value systems from your perfect face, your acceptance transcends the collective, your mind unknowable except to you.
|Fri, Aug 02||7:45-8:15 pm||Could Be 41 Elmwood||(part of Could Be A Noise Rock Show)|