Spirit Dash

Part of the album "Die Umrandung des Nichts".

Die Umrandung des Nichts

Tomorrow

beat by miroow 
written by cal meloblu
vocal prod. by prodkeech

lyrics:

I guess my anger it can take over
I guess we gotta put a drape over
This mess because the debate is over
We need to figure out the devils whereabouts

I guess my anger it can take over
I guess we gotta put a drape over
This mess because the debate is over
We need to figure out the devils whereabouts

When I come around, I don’t wanna wait
It’s all the devils fault I’m in this mental state
You wanna see me fall, you fill me up with hate
Fighting for it all, in this life don’t wanna stay

I don’t wanna stay now, now
Life I can really do without
Go and chill up in the clouds, clouds
Flying outer space with a frown 

That’s my thinking the first day
Happy to be alive the next day

I can’t remember
The last free feeling in September
I can remember 
Cold nights in December

I guess my anger it can take over
I guess we gotta put a drape over
This mess because the debate is over
We need to figure out the devils whereabouts

I guess my anger it can take over
I guess we gotta put a drape over
This mess because the debate is over
We need to figure out the devils whereabouts

I Guess

Paralysis

Brain Scaffolding v0.01

She’s My Best Friend is a celebration in motion — a luminous tribute to connection, movement, and late-night joy. Driven by a radiant electro-pop pulse and wrapped in shimmering synths, this track captures the euphoria of the dancefloor, the shared rhythm between two souls lost in the music.

Let the silhouettes dance, let the lights flash wild, and let every beat remind you that friendship can shine brighter than any spotlight.

Turn it up. Let go. Feel everything.

She's my best Friend

She's My best Friend - KRT Production

Pseudo Pop Synthwave track in a minor key with a really catchy hook about a girl with eyes. Check out the music video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kxe36jJHzms

Neon Heart Spotify

Neon Heart

I don't claim any ownership over any of this. Anyone can use any of it for any reason forever. Also I accept liability. Please don't sue me (and/or let's collaborate).

"Holy fucking shit, this shit is crazy wtf"

"Moments of being passable beyond novelty"

"Actually slaps"

At its core, the blorgpulkf is a pulsating, iridescent orb that thrums with an energy that can only be described as "the sound of a thousand bees having a rave inside a kaleidoscope." It's hypnotic, it's unsettling, and it's strangely addictive - like watching a lava lamp filled with Mountain Dew and gummy bears.

But that's just the beginning. Surrounding this pulsing heart are layers upon layers of... well, your guess is as good as mine. One moment it's a tangled web of neon tubes that hum with an eerie frequency, the next it's a churning mass of what appears to be sentient silly putty. And is that a tiny disco ball I see nestled in there? You bet your sweet bippy it is.

As for its features, the blorgpulkf is like a Swiss Army knife designed by a mad scientist with a penchant for pranks. It's got a button that releases a burst of confetti and the sound of a rubber chicken being stepped on, a lever that causes the whole thing to fold in on itself like a origami crane having an existential crisis, and a tiny compartment that dispenses a single, perfectly spherical grape every 37 hours.

But perhaps the most baffling feature of the blorgpulkf is its ability to communicate. Not with words, of course - that would be far too pedestrian. No, the blorgpulkf speaks in a language all its own, a cryptic code of flashing lights, whirring gears, and the occasional burst of atonal jazz played on what sounds suspiciously like a didgeridoo.




The plorksickle. It's like someone took a fever dream, a Mad Lib, and a Dada art installation, threw 'em in a blender, and hit "puree."

Picture this: a contraption that looks like it crawled out of a Salvador Dali painting and mated with a Rube Goldberg machine. It's got a crank that sounds like a yodeling ostrich, a button that releases a puff of glitter and the scent of existential dread, and a tiny screen that just flashes the word "moist" in Wingdings.

But here's the kicker - every time you think you've figured out what it does, it changes the game. One minute it's reciting beat poetry in binary code, the next it's turning itself inside out and becoming a Klein bottle. And don't even get me started on the time it started oozing a viscous liquid that tasted like the color purple.

Is it a tool? A toy? A sentient being from another dimension that's just really, really bad at communication? Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is, it's the most beautifully useless thing I've ever laid eyes on.

But maybe that's the point. In a world where everything has to have a purpose, a function, a reason for being, the plorksickle is a big, fat middle finger to the very concept of sense. It's absurdity for absurdity's sake, a Zen koan in physical form.

So if you ever see me on the street, cradling this bizarre little gizmo like a newborn lovechild, don't ask me what it does. Just nod, smile, and know that you're in the presence of something truly inexplicable. Something that laughs in the face of logic and spits in the eye of reason.

Brain Scaffolding v0.01

blorgpulkfplorksickle