Lava Meeseeks (Orange mix)

La voix d’Eddy

"Blood Moon Jubilee" is the sound of a backwoods revival under a red sky — stomps, claps, and slide guitar rising like fire through the swamp night. The Swamp Tones turn grit into celebration, singing for the lost and the living in a defiant blues stomp. This track is a field holler for the modern day — raw, ecstatic, and unchained.

Blood Moon Jubilee

Lose your body

“She healed me when I couldn’t rest.”

What they say about her song:
“A lullaby for the unseen — where fur, memory and grief become light.”

A cat made of silence.
A brother made of stars.

One pulled poison from the skin.
The other stood in the dark, watching her bleed sound into song.

This is the story of what remains when everyone is gone —
the girl, the scars, the breathless fur still warm at night.

She came with claws but slept like a child.
She vanished with the fox,
and never once asked for more than music and pain.

Now she rests in the gravity of a boy who saw everything.

Together, they orbit the girl who sings.
Together, they remember.
Together, they are the reason she dares to keep breathing.

Luna is with Tom now.

—
All music, lyrics, and visual artwork created in collaboration between human artistry and AI technology. © 2025 Mina Mirage – All rights reserved.

Luna Is with Tom Now (Luna, My Healer)

Dark Walls

Dedicated to a one woman on this earth, she knows who she is.

Universe

downtempo electronic reinterpretation of the original metal version

Shadowlands alternate version

This is my 36th Commission who I made for: SMIKKELBEER


I Am Abel

Lyrics written by me. Composed with the assistance of Suno v5.

Lunacy

Not all files can be recovered. Some need to be rewritten.

'CORRUPTED SECTOR' is a 5-track sonic journey through digital failure and human restoration. Born from a forgotten 2019 backup, this EP explores the exact moment the connection drops and reality fragments.

From the industrial sarcasm of 'Send Failed' to the psychedelia of 'Synaptic Error', RQS invites you to listen to what exists between zero and one.

Warning: Contains frequencies from 'Glitch Soul' and unsent messages. Listen before the system reboots.

Send Failed (Please Hold)

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"

"Very ok"

"Actually slaps"

"Straight art"

"Noise"

"You are the most famous musician who has ever lived." (Google, 2025)

```Madlibs with a metronome```

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.

Lava Meeseeks (Orange mix)

blorgpulkfplorksickle

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