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-- Dubolocaust No Matter The Cost [06/06/2010] Prepare For A Mid-alley Dubbing NSFW
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Sometimes I cut myself just to see how much it bleeds it's like adrenaline the pain is such a sudden rush for me.
One rapture per second.
One revelation per finger.
The entrance is nigh.
Proper are my thighs.
Creationism will be proven a sham
Best. Night. Ever.
WE'RE STILL WIPING UP THE BLOOD
Moist was every bit of me. Every rotten slit of me. You shit on me, I let it happen.
I won't ever get my son back, his stem cells were needed to further advance the dub beyond its current threshold. This event is but the prenuptial to our divine pandemonium.
My vagina wept. Onward.
My vagina wept as we burned the bodies of the lessers for the fuel of the day.
I remember watching tender vagina slowly begin to die amongst the reverb and the faux ferns. It's there where her memory faded, as I invaded, trenchcoat falling to the floor.
No one noticed, right there on the speaker. I didn't even care that she was
The music sounded like CELINE DION'S HICCUPS at the DAYTONA 500.
Leukemia dripped from the rafters
TEN HALF MOONS AGO
I heard at the next show they're gonna hire OPERA'S STAFF.
The show gave me PTSD. The bass gave me fibromyalgia.
THE WILL CALL LINE
It felt as though I was bassodomized
We let the film spun, just nigh of stillborn. Instruments astray, strewn across the span of the room. Widening the protracted nature of my legs I let the mass before me perform the task as they were dregs.
Unmasking the truest natures of the BASS from the shelter of my dormant, emancipated youth.
I praise the works of Damien as he works in the Grey.
Hunting for that ban.
No pill is enough, we've learned.
As I laid snake I said to her, hands wrapped around her neck, "Run towards the light, bitch, hide from the bass."
I don't know what is more pathetic, the holocaust jokes, the tired high school sexual references or the fact that all the handles post around the same time
... for each sinner knew the length of their stride, and although thinner, had the strength to survive.
Enter through your family
I was in the TWIN TOWERS when the PLANES HIT.
That was where we invented the dub. The rumble of the planes humbles all of our complaints.
She woke up, eyes only able to gaze forward with her vision poking through the welled up tears floating in the corners near her nose. Her wrists were bound by some worn leather straps to some pale blue slab. In front of her was a moist brick wall speckled with rust spots (or so it would appear) and an indiscernible calligraphy of words in another language.
Each breath felt like a car crash at 40 miles per hour and all she could taste was hot sulfur trickling down her throat. Her ten year old throat. The dress she had had on at church earler that day seemed hardly recognizable, annd torn apart to be much shorter against he slender legs. Finally she moved her eyes along the form of her arm. The same calligraphy on the wall was written upon both of her forearms as though some pinpricked sanskrit upon parched pale papyrus. What did it say?
An interminable thud kept ushering in the next as though the harbinger of infinity had multiple personalities. Lub, dub, lub, dub. A group of cloaked figures crept into the room like a icy dagger into the chest, enveloping her like the latest Alphazone album. One of them carried a rotund, blunt instrument and the others had vials of spices and other sacred ritualistic items. She could feel herself becoming untethered, still unaware of how long she had been wherever she was.
Lurching forward, the bony grasp of one of these figures grasped her jagged shoulder, clasping the shoulder blade and blocking circulation in her neck. Knowing what was coming, she let it happen, her ending. This was to be the punctuation of her terse existence, as a cloud of murky substance billowed from their vials. The wall in front of her became invisible and the rest of her tattered rags fell carelessly to what was believed to be a concrete floor.
The raising of the club, the swing, the permanence of the end. Lifeless she fell.
The impact became the bass. Her groaning became the dub. Her last moments, her last steps.
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