“Send my body to Arby’s.”
Ensnared in a crystalline azure.
Plunging into dismal depths with a doom goliath.
“Strange is the night where black stars rise,
And strange moons circle through the skies
But stranger still is
Crown the astral array of gnashing incisors.
Regress to a polyp.
A new solo podcast endeavor. Succinct reviews of releases from a breadth of disparate genres.
Peering behind the veil of loss.
Peel back the long-dormant veil curtaining our lineage.
Obsidian depths and suffocating forlornness reign.