Crisis

by SUBSIST

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... with a mouthful of shit, and the hair rising on my scalp,
screaming and dancing in praise of eternity annihilating the sidewalk, annihilating reality,
screaming and dancing against the orchestra in the destructible ballroom of the world,
blood streaming from my belly and shoulders
flooding the city with its hideous ecstasy, rolling over the pavements and highways
by the bayoux and forests and derricks leaving my flesh and my bones hanging on the trees.
- Allen Ginsberg, ‘Paterson’, 1949

credits

released February 1, 2016

Dunsmuir Geddes Jones Weinberg
Noise by Burrow Owl
Recorded August 1 2015
Mixed and mastered Fall 2015
Engineered by Knightbus
Thanks to Grindon Nolan Singh Thomas

Edition of 101 copies.

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Absurd Exposition

Mediocrity and genius are equally useless.

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Track Name: EXIT / PURGATORY I / PURGATORY II / CRISIS / 4113 - 4114
EXIT
Holes in the fabric of space and time. Holes in the theories of body and mind. Light enters freely, masked by darkness which never escapes, yet never tries. Passion. Ability. Tranquility. Never surfacing. Trapped in a world of self hate, of fear brought upon myself, yourself, ourselves. Radiance staunched. Dream dead. Deathbed. Godsend is life's end. Reprieve from an ambiguous dystopia.

PURGATORY I
Four walls. Saviour. Sanity. Insanity. Nurturing. Nourishing. Devastating. Trapped inside.

PURGATORY II
Darkness remains. Drowned. Knifed. Lynched. Impossibilities always in the back of the mind. Encapsulating. Waiting to smother. Never forgotten. Never removed. Bearing down with the waves of time. An ending held at bay by some faint memory of light.

CRISIS
The deceptive silence of an industrious cosmos. Science. Nonsense. Lies. Truths denied and unknown. Oceans deep and an endless above. Mysteries behind mysteries. Questions. Absolute morality? The horrifying experiences of life. The burden of the great unknown.

4113 - 4114
... and on a new millennia morning nothing had changed. "How many of you are scared?" A lone hand is raised. The future trapped in the grip of the past. Monuments reduced to rubble. Lost in life, we suffer all the same. Subsisting on a memory. Subsisting on a lie. Born into failure. Pompous eternally. I may die a thousand deaths before finding truth, but in the final end bury me in the kingdom of fulfillment.

“Do you hate mankind for what they done to you?”