DESCRIPTION:
Extracted from the Scheintot LP, 1981 - Joseph T. Jacobs/Bond Bergland/Cole Palme. Photo by Ruby Ray

Reveries pummel a prostrated son riddled with shard and by the words scrawled on the outside of a letter bomb. On the edge of winter's gleaning I will take your little hand. C'mon I'll show you where they found those teenage girls with their heads dashed upon the rocks, then I'll slash your bedding to ribbons and bisect a scream.

There are treatments and there are treatments and there are other compartments where they deal you so badly. Bloated numbers get ravaged completely; but you can rest assured that when you give up your breath, you'll be forever within me.

End of magnetism non sequitur alignment ekes out a hollow victory. Tragedies are only tragic when they leave the lights on in the waiting room. I've nestled with death in this clammy room.

Sucked off urchin's carpeting your trench mouth and those prongs they use too...

You, only you, could help me feel this phantom pain.