From Mega-Lith to Mack Daddy
This is a probe of planets, of skin, of worlds between words, of sympathetic-sonic-soul-magic trapped in a def-shout, caught in a jazz note, locked inside a horn, layered in a rainstorm, rocked in a vibrated cave of rave-dancing bison, fried in the pie of sky, in the high-rising laminate of syncopated fate, of fight, of starlight, of night, inside your head, crawling out your eyeball like a misplaced squeal, like a earful of warring colors, like sex inside a sentence, like a seismic serration of the world-code, seeking healing in the sound, seeking five bodies to live in, seeking to “synctify” soul through a world-whole, seeking to probe the primal lobe of strobe-truth, through every layer of cell. This is the jack-up of get down, the frown on the face of god, the laugh of the dead, the grin of Goldilocks at the top of your head, bleeding red over the midnight bed of lost lovers and flavors of pulled back covers, revealing the dread of black at the bottom of the stack. This is the lack of limitation, like matter musing on its own beginning.
KeywordsSpirit World Epidermal Wall Real Deal Middle Passage Gated Domain
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