Im reconsidering what i know about knowing someone. When there's blood in the water we all become sharks shredding bodies for a chance to finish all we started. Our teeth, with serrated edges, grow in rows and i crave the rot of my my fingers. Refusing to ingest anything cleaner than my own skin. But i cant taste who i think i am. We crave more. We all obsess on the fading beauty of flying wasps hoping that maybe we can avoid the sting. I sign the deeds to houses i dont own because if i stay surrounded im not alone. Im done accounting for all these precautions that i know wont change outcomes, because if im going down ill be the water in my lungs. Ill twist my mouth into emotional gang signs that tell stories of my chivalry and mistrust. What if the ghost limb rebels and i cant put it down? There is blood on my hands and i think its mine.
Grind project Regional Justice Center follows an acclaimed debut with another furious blastbeat-driven missive against the US prison system. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 16, 2021