Let me die faster, nothing really matters, heart been on a platter, my life been disaster, cranium shattered, my brain matter scattered, fuck what comes after, stab me with my back turned
Tryna recall happiness or how it shouldve felt
and it doesn’t ring a bell
Ive been feeling this way back before 2012
I hope you find some peace yourself
I’ve been tryna find the piece that’s gone send me to hell
From this life I finally bail I guess, I guess I won’t live to tell
I meant, I meant can you put me on the shelf? 
Do you think that I could be helped? The only thing that holds my head high is the belt
Hows the motherfucking room smell? After a few weeks of Missing all they think what can we sell? Whats his email? I need every single detail, let me take what’s valuable, you know that he won’t be here 
Start to see clear, but only on my death bed can I say Ive seen fear and not from me dear
Got you Shocked you seen my body its like headlights to deer
I’ve been waiting my whole life and now it’s time the ends near
Dont shed me fake tears, over my body dont copy, prolly forget about me its mere, please let me disappear

Remembrance of the Ghost Boy

Digital Pollution is the residue of years of work, the grind crystallized, the fragments that survived the purge. Tracks born, tracks erased, echoes of everything that didn’t stick. Sharp. Fractured. Persistent. Noise pressed into form. Something coherent, if coherence is a lie you choose to believe.

What emerged was never one album, but two gestating forms. One punk, raw and serrated, teeth bared to the sky; one rap, fluid, fractured, a pulse looping through circuits of thought.

The vision, unstable and electric, suddenly became for us the violent algebra of collision: two sonic organisms smashed together, fused, fractured, reborn. This is not a merger, not a compromise, it is experiment, collision, entropy harnessed, a cross-species mutation of noise and rhythm. Punk bleeds into rap, rap gnaws at punk, everything oscillating, folding, snapping back on itself, a feedback loop of aggression, cadence, and pulse. The album is the experiment made manifest, a collision zone you inhabit, ride, survive.

The end result? It’s a Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater soundtrack compressed into one album. Energy ricochets, corners clipped, rails smashed, crashes into walls of sound, collisions of adrenaline and distortion. Unpredictable, alive, chaotic but curated, somehow. You ride it. It rides you.

The architecture is ritualistic. It begins in rap, erupts into rock, then spirals everywhere in between, oscillating, fracturing, bending, folding back on itself. Sub-songs sample one another, trap metal siphoning the pulse of hardcore punk, bending it, twisting it, rebirthing it. Punk collides with metal, hip-hop stretches beyond its limbs, everything bleeding into everything else. A spectrum, a feedback loop, a glitch in continuity that refuses to settle.

Digital Pollution comes straight from the crippled mind of Bruxism, who shapes the lyrics, sculpts the production, orchestrates the chaos of everything else, and SK3RED, whose crushing guitar riffs and ferocious bass lines carve structure from noise, pulse through distortion, and give the chaos a spine. The music surges and fractures, bending punk aggression into new forms, threading a needle of raw voltage through the sonic whirlwind.

Bruxism’s lyrics gnaw at decay, map the brain rot, and fold political unease into rhythm and rhyme, guiding the listener through the hollow, recycled landscapes of the digital wasteland. The distorted rhythms combined with the high speed vocals coforges a feedback loop of sound and thought, chaos and structure, pulse and decay, an organism that is only one thing. Digital Pollution.

Digital Pollution swims through the cesspool. It's not afraid to get dirty. Observe the ever present culture-war through the hollow, recycled landscape of the Internet. Every post, every meme, every echo of thought devoured and reborn hollow. Beneath it, unrest simmers. not a rallying cry, but a reflection of systems crumbling while you scroll, the undertones pulsing between nihilism and faint resistance. The decay is tangible. You ride it. You feel it. But now, as you listen to what we have created, you will come to understand.

Digital Pollution exists online now. Noise, clarity, fragments, collisions, pulses, loops. Immerse. Let it grind. Let it linger. Let it gnaw at the edges of your mind. 
credits
releases September 30, 2025

Digital Pollution (Intro)

We can talk about it or just get a little crunk
Bet she really like to twerk to caricoca funk
You so silly make em dizzy like Sicilian drunks
She likes fifty cent, I feel like a million bucks
Wait, what why?

Where and how and who again, reptilian
Hooligan, running up her leg like this is Gulliver's
Gullible, floated right up straight into the ceiling yeah yeah
Gave her something that can make her talk to demons
Yeah yeah

Towel dipped in water I'm invisible
Wet red flesh marks got physical
Fuck me, it's about to get biblical
Let her die slow cuz she kinda beautiful
Towel dipped in water I'm invisible
Wet red flesh marks got physical
Fuck me, it's about to get biblical
Chop chop (spit sound) that's my ritual

She make a nap turn into a little kidnap
Senator, I'ma send him something gift wrapped
Centerfold hoe, see the whole picture
If you bink you might never even miss her
She made a nap turn into a little kidnap
Senator, I'ma send him something gift wrapped
Centerfold, front page edition
She went out to dance, now she just a picture

What's that? Who's been knocking on the window?
Hear the hailstones play to my crescendo
Can you please try to keep up with the tempo
Her body a temple I worship the devil

Who's that? Who's been knocking on the window?
Hear the hailstones play me my crescendo
Can you please keep up with the tempo?
Kept a little bit of her as a memento

We can talk about it or just get a little drunk
Look away for just a second and she end up in a trunk
If the glove don't fit they'll acquit me on the spot
You think someone who would do this is afraid to get caught?
Wait what why?
Tried the call the numbers back all fake
Couple bags fertilizer make em all quake
Whole lobby blown apart left em all saint's
Daddy's in a body bag left em red paint

She made a nap turn into a little kidnap
Senator, I'ma send him something gift wrapped
Centerfold hoe, see the whole picture
If you blink you might never even miss her
She make a nap turn into a little kidnap
Senator, I'ma send him something gift wrapped
Centerfold, front page edition
She went out to dance, now she just a picture

Up all night I feel like Tyler Durden
Preaching to the mirror giving sermons
I am Jack's last sip of bourbon
The personality of half a person
Bitch
Bitch I feel like Tyler Durden
Bitch I feel like Tyler Durden bitch

Nodding out in traffic on my way to catch a felony
I don't vibe with no one but I'm heavy with the chemistry
Nothing but an entity steady collecting enemies
I'm magic with the shots like the guy who dropped Kennedy

Bitch I feel like Captain Ahab
Chasing white so the demons in me stay bad

You been a fan I been a fiend
Might just take the whole production when I come 'n seize the means
Nothing what it seems
Parasitic energy
I could take your legacy
Move without integrity dismantling identities
And when I get to hell I hope they see me a celebrity
Cuz all my friends are there and I don't mean that hypothetically
So go head and kill yourself and get a step ahead of me
Cuz you don't wanna live inside a world where I'm your enemy

Bitch I feel like Patrick Bateman
Fake a smile while I'm steady staying hating

I'm not the type to be impatient
I'm the type to sit and wait until the mark go on vacation
Left em feeling shaken
Every word I say is dripping with manipulation
String the sentences along until you feel the motivation, bitch

Time for Your Daily Nap Senator / Tyler Durden

Feeling like I'm bout to crash out crash out, uh
Can I come over and stay at your house?
Feeling like I'm bout to crash out crash out, uh
Can I come over and stay at your house?

All these people
They don't like me anymore
Sometimes you gotta know when
Just to go and find the door
All these people, they don't like me anymore
Sometimes you gotta know when, just to go and find the door

Feeling like I'm bout to crash out crash out, uh
Can I come over and stay at your house?
Feeling like I'm bout to crash out crash out, uh
Can I come over and stay at your house?

All these people, they don't like me anymore
Sometimes you gotta know when, just to go and find the door
All these people, they don't like me anymore
Sometimes you gotta know when, just to go and find the door

I got blood all on my shirt
I got dirt all on my face
I got blood all on my shirt
I got dirt all on my face

Crash Out

Packwatch roll it up, smoke it till it's gone

Drop the act and stop pretending that you something you not
Why do all your fucking songs sound like AI slop?
I've seen a couple cunts buckle when it comes to a stop
And five-zero could chop screw your whole crew outta jobs
Get the fuck out dodge, dislodge those words from your mouth
Don't tell nobody that this money what you're really about
You selling oil to the snakes for a shot at the top
Until the allegations drop, Diddy do it or not?
I'm rocking the spot, I'm shaking down crews with a click
You in a jail cell, wondering if your shit sticks
Up in the sticks some shooters is printing weapons to kill
And talking 'bout a revolution 'cuz his rights been repealed
And when the cops gonna catch him, even he'll cop a plea
And your face been on the internet for all to see
So I hope your legal team better know to talk
'Cuz the paper trail is saying ain't no way that you walk
You can see all of the wallets as it moves through the chain
The transactions always lead them to one and the same
He put his name down somewhere on a list for a call
That's all it took for them to go and put his name on the wall, R.I.P

Packwatch, roll it up, smoke it till it's gone
On God, we don't get along
Packwatch, roll it up, smoke it till it's gone
Caught him snitching on his own fucking song
Packwatch, roll it up, smoke it till it's gone
On God, we don't get along
Pack watch, roll it up, smoke it till it's gone
Caught 'em slipping and it won't be fucking long

A couple weeks of tapped lines and they got the address
The whole squad in the van now suited in vests
All because he couldn't help but flex the whip on the feed
Hope a mugshot gets him the respect that he need
I've seen it happen to the best, every giant could fall
It could be your name next, right up there on the wall
I think it's funny that these dummies start some beef for the clout
And then they line they own pockets with a wink to the crowd
I'm on pack watch son, yeah we smoking 'em out
Steady waiting till the next time his foot in his mouth
Maybe I don't wear no Gucci or no Louis Vuitton
But where you're going everybody's got the same fit on
Went from posing with a launcher to a poser with papers
A couple letters went and turned ya from a rapper to rapist
Why all these big bad types always fucking with kids?
'Cuz ain't no way a woman putting up with half of his shit
So sick of the bit, I'm here to put a rest to the case
And send the whole ship sinking to the depths of their graves
You've taking the bait, now pull and go unravel your fate
End of the day you'll never put a name to the face bitch

Packwatch, roll it up, smoke it till it's gone
On God, we don't get along
Packwatch, roll it up, smoke it till it's gone
Caught him snitching on his own fucking song
Packwatch, roll it up, smoke it till it's gone
On God, we don't get along
Packwatch, roll it up, smoke it till it's gone
Caught 'em slipping and it won't be fucking long..

#Packwatch

Borderline Saints is a hymn for those caught between salvation and collapse.

Borderline Saints

Grabbing the swords for war, blood soaked floors
Of course, absorb horned headed demons from the ouija board
Hit Ouijaboy whats the reason for? This illusion disillusioned the solutions abhorrent
When it rains its pouring, plan your death employ it
Eat people thru Soylent, fuck living with these peasants, forewarned new poison
Black Magic Whorer Movie for my sick enjoyment
Got a clip appointment itching to deliver slivers size of a coin 
Whats that noise? Click, hotter than some porridge, horrid, all you fuckers annoying
Human life I strife with its pointless
I drop bombs, dont carry em
My thoughts delirium 
6 feet to bury him
Wood box to carry him
Rag wrapped like Syrian
Find the root, mycelium
Lose a tooth or cranium
Bitch im hard, vibranium
Boy you not, hilarious
Antichrist vicarious
Ouijaboy the scariest
Know you cant be serious
No you wont get near to this
Hear my flow? Meticulous
But Im still kinda new to this and no I dont do no tutoring bitch
Shoulda woulda coulda motherfucker but you won’t though
Innocent of innocence, and ina sense a villain hoe
The difference is insolence, you end up residential home
Horns up like an antelope, the New World Order scapegoat 
Float home, you dug yourself a hole
Arm and leg be the price to save yo soul
On the low, addicted to prescription bitch we know Im a scumbag I deserve death row 
Cogs missings, need a rewire, breathing retire, got my thoughts tripping, mental anguish, growing painless with my saw spinning, lowered on yo face, now yo jaw ripping awaken where the demons play
Weightless statements every word is baseless
Aimless swing the blade dont get to close you faceless
Brainless ass motherfucker, corpse nameless
Shameless, fucking with the ouija you courageous 
I taste the blood in my teeth if he dissing its sneak
Its straight fuck your beliefs, drop a tab underneath
Knee deep as I creep in the swamp and the creek
Sleep deep underneath set the haunted ones free
Im dishonest wont pass the gas off this chronic
Immodest my clique toxic the stick vomit
Missing mobbing we dominate bout everybody
A drugged up zombie with flesh rotting, the blood clotting
My shadow stretches to dark places it starts at hades
The hollow deadman with wretched stenches but can you blame me?
The cannabis just smells like piss I hit the lottery
My conglomerates shattering skulls, pottery
Reaching from their shackles, demons reaping tabernacles
From the darkness to your mind, evil creatures start to cackle
Creeping in the shadows you can find me on the gallows 
Leeching off the cattle feel no peace until I dabble

Solve et Coagula

-X- SEEK DEEP -X- SCARS ALIGN -X-

“Tome of Stars” is a 100 sonnet journey, equal parts art, therapy journal, and exorcism, both a celebration and an elegy, a single narrative arc tracing the birth and death of a relationship. All poetry by Stargazer. The verse and accompanying synthetic art and music are public domain, CC0, with no restrictions on use. Nothing is monetized. See below for links on how to access the print, PDF, audio, ePub, video, and music files. 
Website: https://www.tomeofstars.net/

The fifth Item of “Tome of Stars”, “Quixotosis”, marks the poet’s transformation into a sustained state of paradox with an enduring condition of impractical idealism born not from naive delusion but from its aftermath. Emerging from the frozen void of “Anemochory“, these sixteen poems depict a fractured self that has ceased resisting its nature, accepting permanent separation from the beloved while continuing to orbit her in love without expectation (and in the end, without hope) of return.

“Boxing Day, 2024” is a free verse lament marking the precise moment when the poet relinquishes his last hope of hearing again from his beloved, certainly in any fashion that could be meaningful in the raw essence his longing required. The poem is raw, disordered, and visceral, formally abandoning rhyme and meter to express emotional collapse. Anchored in the memory of the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami—an event that had once reconnected them through the catalyst of global tragedy—the poem mourns the absence of a renewed contact on the 20th anniversary of that event. What begins as an invocation of grief and trauma concludes with exhausted defeat. The poem chronicles a vigil held in emotional ruin, where the silence of the beloved, now seen as definitive, is internalized as the final blow. The poet, having sustained fantasy for decades, at last allows it to die, not through anger or argument, but through absence and unacknowledged loss.

This poem does not further the relationship; it buries it. It is the moment the poet accepts, not by conviction but by exhaustive defeat, that his beloved will never return, never answer, and never truly loved him at all. In that sense, the poem does not merely end the “Quixotosis” section, but it ends the fantasy itself. “Scripture”, the meta-reflective epilogue to the collection, can only follow such death.

***********
Lyrics

Bone-shattered-heaven-damned lune
zombie-lurching months (campus dark and hunted light)
yourface yourlaugh yourwalk yoursmell

waking: (cold) empty-life-waltz hotel room laptop news
d-r-u-n-k mother nature’s black INFANTICIDE
one quarter million tombs befoul stirred seas

i broke unholy silences. i bled cross fiber optics
we touched. and wept. and vowed
never ever let love die

i choke on it now//\\twenty year deathversary
mourning every moment of our rot
continents sundered ——— i felt your heart tonight
((((*in timeless unspace*))))

ruined resurrection as you vomit infinite silence
rank guts a’sloshin’ o’er hateful shores
blinging our grave by cemetery seas

sorry, stargirl
i just couldn’t make it rhyme

***********

Internet Archive
Book of sonnets:
https://archive.org/details/tome-of-stars/

Music:
Item 1, Anthesis: https://archive.org/details/Anthesis/
Item 2, Senescence: https://archive.org/details/senescence_tomeofstars
Item 3, Sporogenesis: https://archive.org/details/Sporogenesis_TomeOfStars/
Item 4, Anemochory: https://archive.org/details/Anemochory_TomeOfStars
Item 5, Quixotosis: https://archive.org/details/Quixotosis_TomeOfStars
Item 6, Scripture: https://archive.org/details/Scripture_TomeOfStars

Boxing Day 2024

spitcup W/ NIKKO

with @fkbambam

produced by @nimbustwokay & Lord Gasp
mix/rec by Lord Gasp

LYRICS :

(Lord Gasp)

in the cut, out the mix like a bad batch,
boy you movin’ goofy, you the type to get your bag snatched.
lab rat, popped me out the womb and fed my ass tabs
Put me down, i’ll be back , pull up on you , bambam

(Fkbambam)

Got a freak hoe gimme dome 
Doing a handstand
Im like juicy jay up in the club she do her band dance
Came outta dirt. crawled my way out of the quick sand,
Flaunting what im wanting we gon take it you get ransacked

(lord gasp)

lifes a bitch ive let her venom in
Invite her in
I fucked the devil , insiminate her face
Its in my veins
no Vitamin can fix my sinner brain
Disintegrate you bony sack 
The hollow points , the body bag and everything


(fkbambam)

Labels tryna buy my swag, it’s not for sale
You quit and only worked for three whole days yeah you’re bound to fail
Damn your ass retarded how the fuck you slower than a snail
Cross my ass like Jesus, pin right through your hands with metal nails 


(lord gasp)

Big bank all ,blue faces like they holdin’ breath,
Gave that boy a dub, he ran off, now he owe his fuckin death.
I be with them steppers, but they quiet, ain’t no show and tell,
Catch him talkin’ crazy, he gon’ fold like an open mail.


(hook - lord gasp and fkbambam)

Cant stop, won’t stop, cash in the safe
Talk shit, jaw lock, get hit in the face
Lips loose shells fly, thats a closed case
Cant stop won’t stop, run up in your place

Cant stop, won’t stop, cash in the safe
Talk shit, jaw lock, get hit in the face
Lips loose shells fly, thats a closed case
Cant stop won’t stop, run up in your place



(fkbambam)

made it outta nothing i ain’t got no mob ties
messing with the fam you gon’ end up hog tied
Hit em up, freeze up leave ya stuck, terrorize
Shocked to see me creeping out 
But I know I don’t look surprised




(lord gasp)

Whole life flashing, his homies bout to pick his scraps
Pick yo shoes up fore my shooter make the metal clap
Pick his loot up like the riches do the middle class
redneck, call me lil bluegrass


(fkbambam)

Scare the hoes like Danny Brown
I think she had a heart attack
Even with no excercice
my numbers doing jumping jacks
Bambam, calm down
They said my whole life
Early like i’m Folgers
moving boulders like a landslide


(lord gasp)

Gone in a puff
My whole circle smoked quick
Never trust none , fuck with no bluff bitch
Stick to yo senses,  never missin maths
Put numbers in, really
Plus im really bout my swag


(hook - lord gasp and fkbambam)

Cant stop, won’t stop, cash in the safe
Talk shit, jaw lock, get hit in the face
Lips loose shells fly, thats a closed case
Cant stop won’t stop, run up in your place

Cant stop, won’t stop, cash in the safe
Talk shit, jaw lock, get hit in the face
Lips loose shells fly, thats a closed case
Cant stop won’t stop, run up in your place



Crash Out

BRUXISM

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