supported by
/
  • Immediate download of 2-track album in the high-quality format of your choice (MP3, FLAC, and more). Paying supporters also get unlimited mobile access using the free Bandcamp listening app.

    Download for FREE or Pay-What-You-Want.
    If you are going to pay, please don't pay less than $1, otherwise with Bandcamp and PayPal fees, it ends up costing us money...
    Thank you for your support!

     name your price

     

  • Record/Vinyl

    Only 100 of the 7"s will be pressed on lime green vinyl.

    Includes immediate download of 2-track album in the high-quality format of your choice (MP3, FLAC, and more), plus unlimited mobile access using the free Bandcamp listening app.
    ships out within 2 days
    edition of 100 

     $5 CAD or more

     

  • Record/Vinyl

    Only 100 copies of this 7" will be printed on hot pink vinyl

    Includes immediate download of 2-track album in the high-quality format of your choice (MP3, FLAC, and more), plus unlimited mobile access using the free Bandcamp listening app.
    ships out within 2 days
    edition of 100 

     $5 CAD or more

     

1.
06:56
2.
05:09

credits

released 21 December 2013
Engineered by Josh Korody at Candle Studios, Toronto.
Mixed by John Harry.
Mastered by James Plotkin.

HP006
2013

tags

license

all rights reserved

feeds

feeds for this album, this artist
Track Name: Lime
Plasma I store runs a panicked course
‘long my insides and now sheets. It’s spilled
blood drained of water and turned
wine and red and black. The ritual drink; the last
drop of oil licked in the flames of sex
ignited along the slick, washed in white
like us ignited and burst
from the plumb line of chest. So drenched in it all
I calcify, smothered in bases and tonics,
the medicines of our sacrament will
discover our sores in secret pain
and scarring bliss.
Filled up with it.

So blood is not blood when lit
aflame. Milk’s brother and caustic sweat
leak and expel in such clime of steam and
slake, in sublime and dense breaths.
Pure life and empty body demand
buried spasm, salt, flesh and sorts, panting
mattress, left over orts and mess.
Melting in a swell
like cubes of ice soaking crushed fruit and dry vermouth at the bottom of a glass.
Track Name: Meat
Lived without jury or review til made present,
the subject, a person, whose past makes future dread.
Subsists against years’ attrition evolved from habit
to sincere; customs of a certain gore line
with poor currency accounts made
in bed- in debt to all he’s paid and more.

All’s speculated but his name. Seen as vile,
not with fear, but feared all the same.
Imagine! The impious twit:
Gums licked clean of once fresh meat so bone’s yellow gleams
a veneer of resign and defeat, masking talent
in the same sheets of tobacco and acid upon his teeth.

The old wretch, fleshened barstool and jacket -
Never so inert a man, impotent in all but the fact,
dare inspire, as a last virile act: to inspect
the echo for sight of the misfortunate life before he got fat.

Nothing now to give for love once deserved;
Dreams made life by hope and ambition turned
waste- of all beauty sucked in his lips only left exists an aftertaste
like the stink on pavement of the finest spirits pissed on streets.

Promise made meat spoiled; a chancre on the tongue. The lung
of a pig ribbed in this man, whose
cancer breathes for him; whose
pores perspire of gin; who
perhaps has scant years left but for all purpose is done.