Review Summary: Do you not want to know how a monolith dies?5 of 8 thought this review was well written
Dabbling perhaps too carelessly into Blue Moon Saiyeed, my hand taken and my body tumbled into small crevices between the lines of reality and surrealist natures in the art. Placing hands upon the fringe and feeling it crumble away like soft rock between my fingers as it slowly draws away into the fallacy of an unbroken sanity.
Nine in at thirty-six and it feels like a long, drawn-out forever.
Veering closer to the edge of darkness, dead shivers like shingles down my spine and an incessant pumping of that infernal beating at my ear. Like hounds on a rope at a cat. A bone shaking and fearful blackness, harrowing and battering down those hatches upon me. I am concealed and lonely inside this hole. Only faint and distant echoes of old ideals rattle around inside my head. Forever locked away to scream mercilessly at a stone wall and have it bounce back at me. Their voices. Those voices. Tenfold, falling into my hole. Drilling into my mind. It clicks, it clatters, it runs and runs and everything else is left to wander. I feel so claustrophobic, but I like holes. I like the comfort of enclosed spaces. Why does this feel different? Why can I not breathe?
Hot flushes glitter like guilt and the sweat pours down; you can’t shake this feeling like a hand or flick it like a rubber band. It’s there and it clings to the skin like a wet cloth. Alas, a fragile and fallen hope of escape has escaped me and I am comfortable with my fate, letting the noise absorb me and I transcend into its frightful psychedelia, ever-present. I can hear them chanting still, they haven’t stopped, even when all appears a silent ambiance. Just bashing and smashing and clashing away at the back of my head, and I let it all in. I let it all take hold. I feel my body float back and sink into the canvas.
The frantic strings of blessed helplessness close in around everything and swallow the world whole. I’ve heard it all, I still hear it, it never stops coming and I feel like I’m repeating the same absurd notions over and over within myself. I, in the end, hope for silence, for silence could never come too soon. But I don’t want it to end. Contradictory statements full to the brim and overflowing to a brisk climax in which I am lost and cannot recall the time before...
So yeah, it’s pretty good.