IN CONVERSATION: Dylan Desmond of Je Est Un Autre and Bell Witch
Black milk of daybreak we drink it come evening.
Black milk of daybreak we drink it come evening.
Entrails of the God Machine.
Head towards the fog.
Everybody I’ve ever known is burning in hell.
Fraught devotion and uneasy peace; questing yet languorous; forever rapt and untethered.
The noise of harmony and the harmony of noise.
Greyscale terror.
Reduction and eventual expansion.