first appeared on pneumatic detach's vis.cer.a from hive records
i heard the machine ripping away at the flesh, tearing into gristle and bone. metal teeth granulating cartilage. that soulless hiss of the gas. mechanical removal of skin. i smelled the hovering stench about me, felt the cold sick air. these are unspeakable horrors and they occur hour after hour, day after day. we all know and we all ignore. and i am left with nothing, no feeling and no care. meat torn off the bone. a spray of fleshy particles. searing and unending pain. it saturates me. i absorb it. discarded lumps of quivering matter. plump, fatty globs of nothing. everything that is sick and twisted, everything that is wrong, and loathsome. but as i stare into the repulsive void i realize all of this is me. this is as much me as anyone else. i'm sickened, disgusted. no. sickening and disgusting. i want to smash myself to pieces, to lash out, to do something. i feel this repugnance rising from deep inside. and then the realization overcomes me and i find my focus. in response, in my response, in my attempt to do something, i've now built this; this monstrosity into which i have attached you, plucked you out of your stagnant limbo of existence, and strapped you into this abomination of feeling, this machine that was inspired by the world as i see it: not how i want it, not how we wish it, not even how we think of it, but how it is. and at last, i am overcome by this sense of purpose. you may not feel it now but you will. as cruel and inconsequential as it is, this mindless, brutal apparatus has reason. this is at last, meaning. we live in a world of emptiness, of worthless days following empty hours. but this, this has come from cause. and this is finally result. everything they have done to me will be cleansed by this; this machine will reverse the punishment, will concentrate and condense everything into one extreme moment, a beautiful moment of unimaginable revenge. and now with this one, finishing gesture, i set the automatic functions into motion, and through this act of bestial, unthinking destruction of you, no, let's call it humane destruction of you, let's realize that it is the tearing and shredding of you, and within it all, do i at last achieve this one pure moment of freedom. freedom in the true sense, not some fucked up lie, not some dirty scam, but the bliss and torment, the full fledged wave of emotion. it's all set into action and nothing can stop it. it is meant to rip it all apart, to burn and crush, to mutilate. the machine can not be stopped once it has begun. this is its design. no thought necessary anymore. no edits, no corrections. nothing to do but to watch and to engorge oneself upon the terror. and in this terror, i have at last, an instant of momentary fulfillment.
from Fuck It All
released June 19, 2009
text and vocals by it-clings
music by pneumatic detach