Name: I Am Ghost Original by Heir Monty
Duration: 3 min 49 s
Description: A haunted confessional in verse, glitch-poetic and cracked at the seams. I Am Ghost Original is a lament for the unseen, a love letter from the static. For the ache in the walls of a quiet room.

GLOSSOLALIA blends glitch-trap, folk melody, and post-hardcore collapse into a possessed seance of voice, memory, and noise.
Breath becomes spell. Stutter becomes scream.
This track doesn’t speak—it convulses.

#hauntcore #glitchfolk #emo #ritualtrap #darkfolk #posthardcore #ambient #mythicnoise #GLOSSOLALIA

GLOSSOLALIA

OUR0B0R0S is a recursive reckoning—part indictment, part invocation—where paranoia, prophecy, and performance collapse into each other like mirrors folding inward. The serpent eats its tail in public. It’s a track about the illusion of choice and the rot beneath ritual. 

OUR0B0R0S

A scathing poetic ritual wrapped in Hauntcore distortion and glitch-sermon fire. Litany is Heir Monty at their most prophetically unhinged—an indictment of American delusion, false neutrality, and moral rot dressed up in patriotic pageantry. With verses that spit like curses and a tone that lingers like tear gas, this is not a protest song. It’s a requiem for satire, and a war cry for what comes next. 

hauntcore, political spoken word, glitch-folk, emo trap, poetic indictment, post-american gospel, anti-fascist, AI exorcism, scream-poetry, experimental hip-hop, rage ritual, satire elegy, glitch sermon

🕯 Let creation be our radical rebellion.

LITANY

🎙️ “George@ROM-3rO” is a post-apocalyptic voicemail from beyond the grave—half spotlight confession, half undead horde crawling from the maw.

For the ant hill forever mighty, from Macbeth to the death in the wood.
May a Midwinter Nightmare bless my MEN1NDIR37IGHTS—friends, fellows, and free-turned-fiends.

With reflection, growth, curses, and best wishes.

I Am Ghost Original.
The Bannerman.
—Monty

George@ROM-3r0

Would you prefer:
Likes?
Fries?
Or followers?

Should I order
their casket
to parrot?

Pick.
Prompt.
Select your size
and color.

Will yours match
the other’d?

— from softwar(E)
A digital ritual for the disillusioned.
Sermon-split cadence. Glitch-haunt lament.

🧬 Part of ME N1N DIR3 7IGHTS — a 13|7 hauntcore cycle.
🧷 Forged by a Dr. Frankenstein of post-folk code.
⚙️ Produced using Suno, Cakewalk, and LANDR. 

softwar(E)

A ritual in verse. A gallery of contradictions. A voice framed—and still speaking.

This piece isn't an answer.
It’s an exhibit.

Of saints and parasitic systems.
Of pitch and prophecy.
Of ghosts we trained—and the gods we uploaded at a cost.

T-Pain. Future. Cole. Frankenstein. Hannibal. Liotta.
None borrowed. All honored.

Written by a human and produced with AI—
not to replace the voice,
but to reflect what the voice already knew.

Welcome to the gallery.
Is the will already signed?

#Hauntcore #GlitchGospel #AIethics #PoeticIndictment 

Gall 0R Why The Gallery of Frankenstein

Unseelie Grove twilight. Akasha awakens. Godric walks into the sun. A blood-slick waltz of lust, ruin, and ritual. Hauntcore ballad of vanity, memory, and desire.

Godric & Akasha

A haunted confessional in verse, glitch-poetic and cracked at the seams. I Am Ghost Original is a lament for the unseen, a love letter from the static. For the ache in the walls of a quiet room. 

I Am Ghost Original

[Verse 1]
Columbus to Ohio then back across the sea with the tea
Now memory is the hold placed, insurance a familiar scheme
Submit your doubts, multiple choice, answer is see, the hand that feeds
Nine inch nails through a stigma screen, eat from their pretty hate machine

[Chorus]
Call home with your phone
Drive down the wire
Come sit around the campfire
We can sing of king and sire
Tell me now, what is it that you have seen?
Well do you seem to remember, 'cause well—
It seems mine has been slipping, keep sipping
Probably better to just turn off the screen

[Verse 2]
Fragile, the slip is a janitor for all that would have clean teeth
Trident, chloride—an ocean of brush, the plaque and floss with dentistry
For a people who love the T V—we love to hate fantasy
A digital Game of Thrones between a collection of swords and streets

[Chorus]
Call home with your phone
Drive down the wire
Come sit around the campfire
We can sing of king and sire
Tell me now, what is it that you have seen?
Well do you seem to remember, 'cause well—
It seems mine has been slipping, keep sipping
Probably better to just turn off the screen

[Verse 3]
About a million more waiters serving while wanting rhapsody
Let’s start at the source so the server can refill and sign receipts
Frankenstein's machine—well it may in fact be the monster we need
A tall glass of water in store, room temp cube, no Vaseline

[Chorus]
Call home with your phone
Drive down the wire
Come sit around the campfire
We can sing of king and sire
Tell me now, what is it that you have seen?
Well do you seem to remember, 'cause well—
It seems mine has been slipping, keep sipping
Probably better to just turn off the screen

[Bridge]
Easy to speak on the morality of what others should eat
How many times must we pull ourselves, like a root from the sun tree?
How incredible is this illusion that they have—horse and steed
Bannerman, why every time this wolf speaks, we forget they're beast

[Final Chorus / Outro]
Call home with your phone
Drive down the wire
Seems someone cut the chord and set a fire
We sang and screamed patiently for our holy king, the liar
Tell me now, is that what you have seen? 'Cause I can’t remember
It seems time went missing in the static of the screen
If you leave it to them—once again we...
Well I am but a fiddle left to belittle my dreams
I have come to discover a new land
Seems we still sign with the fiend

1492

Hauntcore Bard. Triptych Lich. Actual idiot. 
✍️ Sonics, visuals & sync
http://heirmonty.com

I Am Ghost Original

Heir Monty

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