Red is the sound of my underworld, a gut-vibrating rumble that pins my arms and holds me tight. It’s the pressure of liquid rock that completely envelops me until I am dreadfully swaddled. This will be the last time, I swear. I will rip this cord, the vein of stagnation, my igneous placenta.
Yet, whilst I remain entangled in its sway, trapped within its magma-liminty, I feel fabulously fossil free. Is it a transition to transgression? A resistance to subsistence? A happy dance in smarty pants?
In this troggy cavern, inside this crimson haze, I’m searching for my private Persephone; I’m digging for a Eurydice to save.
spiral scratch
crooked head .. . { fucked up, the chemistry of common life }
last day of the year .. . { reid jamieson, the unavoidable truth }
hardly wait .. . { pj harvey, 4-track demo }
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