Brian Slaughter
"Untitled"
Primitive Temples 010
Edition of 50
Mastered by J. Stillings
2021
This is a transmission/translation.
Caustic signals, wave after wave, disappear into the void. Glowing. Ruined. Apart. From the bog, a reptilian death meditation. Infected mouths whisper. Blissless. Cosmic dismay surrounds invisible enemies. Setting Fires. Dark red. Beauty did not disappoint.
In the ossuary, bundles of bones turn to dust. In solitude I survive. Time keeper, protected by skepticism. "Did I die here?" Chanting vipers, from the south, are mangled below dismal stars. Screams make them dream of horrible altars. There were others. This is not enough.
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