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We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

Dropshield

by Ampallang Infection

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1.
My clean blade against your disgusting neck. Every time you breathe equals every time I stab. What are we killing today? The collector? My infector? Cut off the head. Desensitize the flesh. Bite down on the leather then just hope for all the best. No more apostles. No more breeding. Throw away the tools meant to keep your heart a beating. That’s a nice police force you got there. It would be a shame if it were bulldozed. I am a body. Therefore I decay.
2.
I’ve made a meth lab in the backseat of this Uber. I only do this when I remember too much. Slide the credit card across my neck wound. This is pure torture and can’t continue. What happened to my everything? The neurons stopped firing. Take away my free will. I never want to think again.
3.
Everything will be fine as soon as I figure out what those pills were. Exhausted with existing. If you need anything, too bad. Imagine being me, all the time. I’ve snuck in a bag of feces for the collection basket. I can’t help but feel responsible for the pinkeye breakout amongst your followers.
4.
Endless ashes. 50 lashes for 100 eyes. Anything you can do, karma can do better. Single donar plasma buffet. Discarded skulls dragged on concrete. That which can’t be saved. Outdone by trash.
5.
Bear witness to resurrecting an obsession with death. Separated with enslavement. Dressed in unhealed entry points and infected exit wounds. Your corpse will rot to cover up the stench of your life. All your backup will die of guilty association. A hideous glow mangled in mortar. Raw with deceit. Ignite the church. Cast down from Hell. Fallen to stars. The white horned devil is Our Lady of Arson. Explosions on holy ground shouldn’t ever be interrupted.
6.
Lets fight to see who gets to cut him first. Gifts meant to be taken away. Freshly packed cadavers.

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released April 24, 2021

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Ampallang Infection Washington, D.C.

Drum Machine Grind from DC

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