I thought of myself as a city and I licked my lips.
I thought of myself as a nation and I wrung my hands,
I put a thing in your hand. Will you defend yourself?

From me, I mean. Let’s kill something. The mind
moves forward, the paint layers up: glop glop and
shellac. I shovel the color into our faces, I shovel our
faces into our faces. They look like me. I move them
around. I prefer to blame others, it’s easier. King me.

--richard siken, landscape with a blur of conquerors

------

a mix for a ghost story, the slow crawl of unease, the hiss at the end of the dial tone. for a woman who would become god if it meant she could control the floods and bring forth the plagues.

because there is no hunt like this, and there is no prey like man.

tracklist: http://i.imgur.com/ttcaWm8.png

25 tracks