At the nadir of creation
In psychospiritual downtime
Nothing to center upon
Burlap sack over my head
Gravity is amiss, reality unhinged
A true above and below unprovided
The room might be upside down
I wouldn't know
My consciousness awakes seated
Assaulted by vertigo
Weightlessly confined
Upon my seat I scream
Tremulously: mouthlessly
An incoherent spelling of
Ancient languages
Ancient brains
My neuromuscular prison
I no longer need to see
I feel the one-way mirror
To you— a flickering portrait of me
Where am I— are we— being lead?
A blind gallery tour
Of the same vignette endless reduplicating
I've acclimated to this fabric prison
I smell through the cotton: blood
Unable to draw a connection
Pinpoint its origin— were it birthed by violence;
Make use of imagination
Uncompromising clarity
The cloth is removed from my eyes
You brought me here to identify familiar ghosts
This wild 35-track all-metal benefit album features Mare Cognitum, Panopticon, and more reinventing songs by Tori Amos & others. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 3, 2020