Lose the ceiling drop the kids fear of numbers fear of skin
Lose my control, lose my face, frightened creatures in my head

Dressed in all shades of blue
Cross hatched and doublecrossed
Branded, streets of snow
Black sky, my ceiling
To the world it might not be much
The streets untouched, this world's enough.

Fixed to a flame outside
The bishops scream in tongues
Calm witches dressed in black
Three words and then they're gone

my ears are failing
my eyes are draining
snow freckles fading
snow freckles draining
that night i dreamt of twelve-legged monsters

Speaking words to make them feel some sense of worth
Slice out your poisoned tongue
Forgo your faulted sons
Shit festered vale I haunt 
it's storming each night i dream
Caged in your bloodied hands
Softly tucked into bed

i want out
let me out

They're scared I'll wake and see their faces
Friends, lovers, sunburnt, children and freaks
They bred a monster, cannibalizing on my own flesh, my own blood on my teeth

But to the world outside
That joy is not my own
I breathe and feel in blue
I speak so I am God.
My thoughts aren't filling
Woodrot in my trees
snow freckles fading
snow freckles draining
speaker of the word
who got away clean
I pray your lungs fail
I pray your heart stops

The storm's not mine, 
just Leftover broken tributes
They'll never look in my eyes
Won't let me have a face
my thoughts are sludged 
tied into place with broken strings
Worship the astral moon
Cannibalize my eyes

snow cannibal

Multi-Instrumentalist Solo Artist
Personal Photography and Digital Album Art
Music is better than the life experiences it describes
╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼]
“But I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness, I want sin.”

In a society that has abolished all adventure, the only adventure left is to abolish that society.
“It is in your power to withdraw yourself whenever you desire. Perfect tranquility within consists in the good ordering of the mind, the realm of your own.”

melancholy

Good morning. you've made it. The end. all of this, everything here building towards a single meaningless moment. The moment it is all stripped away and you live for this moment you temporary creature you..you're slipping into the unknown... because all you'll ever find in the end...its time to wake up.

The very meaninglessness of life forces a man to create his own meaning. Children begin life with an untarnished sense of wonder, a capacity to experience total joy at something as simple as the greenness of a leaf; but as they grow older, the awareness of death and decay begins to impinge on their consciousness and subtly erode their joie de vivre, their idealism - and their assumption of immortality.

As a child matures, he sees death and pain everywhere about him, and begins to lose faith in the ultimate goodness of man. But if he’s reasonably strong - and lucky - he can emerge from this twilight of the soul into a rebirth of life’s élan.

Both because of and in spite of his awareness of the meaninglessness of life, he can forge a fresh sense of purpose and affirmation. He may not recapture the same pure sense of wonder he was born with, but he can shape something far more enduring and sustaining.

The most terrifying fact about the universe is not that it is hostile but that it is indifferent; but if we can come to terms with this indifference and accept the challenges of life within the boundaries of death - however mutable man may be able to make them - our existence as a species can have genuine meaning and fulfillment. However vast the darkness, we must supply our own light. - 

"Some critics of the pessimist often think they have his back to the wall when they blithely jeer, “If that is how this fellow feels, he should either kill himself or be decried as a hypocrite.” That the pessimist should kill himself in order to live up to his ideas may be counterattacked as betraying such a crass intellect that it does not deserve a response. Yet it is not much of a chore to produce one. Simply because someone has reached the conclusion that the amount of suffering in this world is enough that anyone would be better off never having been born does not mean that by force of logic or sincerity he must kill himself. It only means he has concluded that the amount of suffering in this world is enough that anyone would be better off never having been born. Others may disagree on this point as it pleases them, but they must accept that if they believe themselves to have a stronger case than the pessimist, then they are mistaken."

It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society. 

Really?
That makes you cringe?
The fact that we are systematically endorsing schizophrenia through our entertainment, empowering unnatural and unhealthy lifestyles and foods, smokes, drinks and drugs, or the fact that we all secretly hate each other to the point of bloodshed and war, or the fact that we cannot fucking unify behind one purpose such as leaving this planet to settle elsewhere, or the fact that we have more money passing celebrity hands than cancer victims, or the fact that we are nothing short of a fucking plague to the planet don't bother you?

“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.”

"The physics which is going on at the very remote future is extraordinarily like the physics going on at the very beginning." ~ Sir Roger Penrose

"...the sea's only gifts are harsh blows and, occasionally, the chance to feel strong. Now, I don't know much about the sea, but I do know that that's the way it is here. And I also know how important it is in life not necessarily to be strong but to feel strong, to measure yourself at least once, to find yourself at least once in the most ancient of human conditions, facing blind, deaf stone alone, with nothing to help you but your own hands and your own head..."

"Violence is not necessary to destroy a civilization. Each civilization dies from
indifference toward the unique values which created it."

'suffering is the sole origin of consciousness' -Fyodor Dostoyevsky

"the most basic, most rudimentary spiritual need of the Russian people is the need for suffering, ever-present and unquenchable, everywhere and in everything."

solo project

one eye is shut and the other one's completely crushed

✙✙✙✙✙
𝖘𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖐𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖎𝖙 𝖕𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖎𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖉
✙✙✙✙✙

Can you come up with a stupider name than the Beastie Boys? - MCA
Solo to my band https://soundcloud.com/somapdx
Just a guy from the Northwest, making some tunes.
PDX/SEA

snow cannibal

Lazy Eyelids