Absence of light. The door to spiritual and mental safety is locked, chained, unassailable. The relentless pursuit echoing through the tomb of your self made prison, the sum of all your fears asserts the strength of your barricade, the brutality of it's emnity coming at you in waves, irregular, crashing, pounding, testing, feeling, searching for the crack that IT knows, that YOU know is there. It is only a matter of time. Screams of sheer evil rip through your mind, shredding the last vestiges of hope. IT knows your weakness now. IT knows triumph. You WILL succumb. The black tendrils of hate surround you now, caressing, corrupting, it's malign essence penetrates you to the very core. There is no difference now. IT, YOU, one and the same. Take your life in a final climatic paroxysm of oberon darkness.

3 tracks. One result: Demise.

contact: nuclear_winter@yahoo.com

© 2003 grymyrk