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Saturnine

by Prune Belly

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1.
Dead horses beneath the floorboards, beasts of burden, ridden into the ground. Dead horses littering the fields, bless the harvest, pollute the wells. Step by step, this burden’s not my own. Breath by breath, these words are not my own.
2.
Drained and deteriorating, the walls are riddled with holes. Every day’s taking it’s toll on me and the nights are taking more. Hollowed out, dehumanized, you’ll never get out as much you put in. Short-lived, again and again, peel those handprints off your fucking skin. I can’t go on like this.
3.
Plaguebearer 00:36
I’ve found the depths of depravity. Bury the shame. Immediate gratification, low fidelity. Indulgence breeding discontent. Wallowing in skin, sins of the flesh, desensitized, degenerate filth. Distended belly and idle hands, the plaguebearer’s burden weighs heavy on me.
4.
Supine 01:00
Rest on your fucking laurels. The stomachs are bursting with swollen white faces. Soft hands and silver spoons, millennial slugs. Trickle-down piss bucket. Generational wealth. Spineless, worthless, helpless, condescending.
5.
Degrading revelry, conditioned guilt. Demeaning litanies, servility. What doesn’t kill you leaves you warped, put on display, a mockery. Place me on the altar, a piecemeal animal, an offering. Take the cloth, bear the cross, you fucking worm. Holier than thou. The hammer’s left me brittle and perverse.
6.
Failure to thrive. Stagnating in complacency. Cracked aspirations left behind to die.
7.
Sloth 02:12
Slow crawl. Cultural sloth clinging to porcelain gods. Self-respect is seeping through the cracks. Delusions of grandeur enervate me. Crippling, infantile, splendid in their decadence. Slow fucking crawl. “And his lord was wroth”, delivered unto torment. Shuddering just beneath the skin. Buried at the base of the skull, where the locusts dwell. Muttering, reveling in torpor, 25 years as an abscess, and the days grow ever shorter. Dreamless, anticipating. Sleepless, never waking.
8.
Chemical days and vacant nights. Self-doubt setting in. Black bile smiles and lifeless eyes. Withdrawal instinct. Distance, detachment, ever greater, ever increasing. The Greater Malefic, bearing down on me until the day I die.
9.
Tunnel visions, pareidolic doubt. Bleeding meaning into void, reading signal into noise. Soothsayer psalms, sickly sweet, in stained glass syringes. Bloated. Hideous, ruptured. Deflated.
10.
Denial, debilitating honesty. Downward mobility, programmed cell death, limiting factors, set the bar low for me. Loose teeth, weak lungs, too old to die young.

credits

released March 18, 2014

Thanks to Slavio in Rovereto, Ryan Abbott in Boston, and Dan at Mammoth Sound.

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Prune Belly Rovereto, Italy

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