Dec 4, 2012
No Rest for the Wicked
Rex Ibanez
Oh, calamitous chamber! I clamber up cushion from the old carpeted floor as a leg stretches and kicks the door shut, clicking the latch lock; I ponder my sonder songs among ghastly ghosts as weightless limbs collapse upon my back and massage bones to distorted soundtracks with phantom fooling-ghoulish hosts -- the most loathsome of invisible gals shrill-shriek-shock electric frigidity while two, three, four-guitar fluidity slams oversouled overdrive against walls in gall! And nigh the night draws down as each female figment drops her gown.