29 06 2004


"My response to WHITE 2."—Seldon Hunt

The musing of a behemoth, the sound of the great beast digesting civilization, a view from inside the black hole, the sound of an elephant being dropped onto a steel plate from a million miles and heard in the slowest of infinite motion, the final thoughts of the last man in Pompei, swamped by plasma and miasma, the consciousness of stalactites crushing the breathe out of the dark, the final blank realization of nothingness by the last population, the final star blinks to a slow death, grimacing maw of frozen bliss, mud and dark froth from million mile wide mouths that burn the horror of eternity into the beholder, white collared dogs in chariots of burning black flesh kidnapping children from the dead and feeding them to the arcane cannibal, profound final slicing, diced, mucous whistling the death march a thousand miles beneath a frozen sea, a planet with no light and no thought, the whispering of DNA as they hide from responsibility, wet slithering black shiny faceless mewling grotesque nothing bread livered beasts with broken glass anuses and head ruptured genitals soaking in crushed onyx on beaches of blood and slime, human bark trees fleeing the light, damned menacing horses trampling shrunken heads across azure endless horizons, a compass, dead tongues on hot wind cackles in demented dreams with no wakening, cross fire in hell, square planets rotate in silence, crushed slowly by the weight of everything, 360 degree view of everything and nothing, a burning itching in all places at once and then nothing, glimpses of something and tastes of nothing, fleeting memories of something and white faced horror at nothing, climbing up eternal cliffs on vertical horizons with dead monkeys weighing down broken limbs and feathers that fill the lungs with sooty tears and flakes of cartilage, someone beside you when there should be no-one, something in front of you that is impossible, something outside that smiles wickedly, something in the next room that knows you are there, something beneath you that will be your destiny, cackles and whimperings on the wind, the loss of speech, the loss of sight the loss of everything replaced by a boneless quivering eternal existence, alone in space gutted by a heavy knowledge of fate and punishment, a life behind bars of solid stone, forgotten, alone white scarred darkness, an ant balancing on a piano string, rodeos on demons and gods that play coins with your desecrated innards, card games with disgorged lions on cliff tops, losers and winners killed by roaming teeth with dark conical breathe that dissolves time and sanity like hot blood and sugar in devils donuts, filled with toads and boiled alive, camping alone in total nauseating darkness, noises that arent nioises and screams that beckon, peel off your skin and dissolve yourself in the lake of sunn0)), sink beneath the lonely depths with more regret than your sanity can bare, know that you will never reach the bottom and that it will only get darker and colder and heavier and tighter, know that your are truly gone, know that you really dont exist anymore, know that you will never surface, know that everything around you is solid but transparent but you are cursed with eternal crushing darkness.

Go look at Seldon's webpage at his awesome drawings and designs... he has quite a few up there


ideologic.org | ©2018