The First Seed's Electronic Art Party
Beyond Pure

Teasing resistance with temptation the allure of ecstasy haunts every moment with the torture of every belittling breath. reality seeps in freezing tentacles under my flesh tearing through my veins with a hostility I’ve only witnessed in idyllic fictions. twitch uncontrolled the nausea encompassing thoroughly choking, sweat slicked, the explosive discomforts erupt in expressions out of my face and lungs longing for just one more taste of bliss. freedom. indulgence and escape.

Seduce me with that sweet evil beauty taunted by exquisite corruption. I deny the digression but for how long can I hold? Does it matter? Am I better without? Time will tell, but will the message be welcome. Benefits on both sides duel with the drawbacks. My subconscious calls out, screams away in inept frustration; GIVE ME! GET PAST! GO ON WITHOUT! the encouragement persists but the shivers never subside.

Beyond all experience I am emptied, humbled by the horrors felt in the presence of deities once only illustrated by the experiences of lost heros and artists that demanded respect and awed by the mystery and mastery of their creations. I want what they had, were, felt. I am worthy. The hurt that ensues is warranted. Humility echos the gratification immediately and endlessly after. I’ll never forget that feeling, that freedom, that dread. the dependence, the coming ever encroaching persistent doom destined to follow me to my end. A knowledge better left unknown. A truth too good to be true. I am beyond purity for ever after.

I have felt a God in a chemical lust the only the privileged and punished can know. Painful retrospect instills compassion empathy and understanding. How could anyone want to feel an alternate. Every crawling second alone carries a bittersweet agony of realization that above the illumination its impossible to comprehend the coming struggle. perpetually striving for a balance between the divine and mundane the altitude always wins and I’m left considering, commiserating how I lived on the outside, but somehow I know I have to. To be real. To feel.

Mutual Sacrifice

mutual sacrifice illuminates the casual trepidation indignant and irrelevant with struggles inane and embarrassing. solid foundations faulty under generations of unsound illusive stability we feel the fumbles cascading through our lifestyles. blurred and bruised we focus together and struggle to imagine a trajectory not riddled in perpetual turmoil fasting for remedies from repulsion and indifference while desperately seeking the solace of yesterdays feasts. sleep off the decisions and keep on working away. anyway, another day will come and another sun will pass unnoticed.

head first

give me that last little breath of desperation wanting endlessly craving trained to desire despite auspicious ambiguousness of worth tantalizing us with empty values executted deftly on the stifled consciousness of a generation swept under the rug of oppression. willingly striving to satisfy their indignant quotas. fainting and fighting, tossing aside the depth of truth and passion for the rapid proliferation of material fornification we breed our own master subtle expanding control feeding the satisfied clutches of the centralist shape shifting contusions upon the spirit of the most prodigious animals ever to forget. we dance to the conductor never missing step as we march chests heaving, straining as the sweat stings and slips down sun kissed cheeks, parched tongues test only to be tangled as the preachers reduce protests to scarce mutterngs scattered across the parade. step in line keeping perfectly regimented. aligned with the best interests obviously indifferent and missing in the gaunt faces of masses. sheperding in another successive era of behavior and obedience. we salute the flag smiling while the flames lick worn heals, whole hearts devoured in a shivering instant. horizons align and stumbling vagabonds tread on timeless paths speckled with carrion and feverish spectacles. circling the ring again we see resemblance in the reflections grafted to flourescent lights bearing relentlessely down on trodden signals we’ve all bathed among in factual disdain. complications laid bare the nuturing breast slowly condemning perpetual starvation rackets refined and restructured to impose maximum complacency. diving head first for successive rushes prevail and sidelong we stall, the tower too high to sufficiently surmise a conclusion we an all fit in neatly succinctly and thoroughly satisfying the unscrupulous adulterers of perception. we carefully fall into place completing their jigsaw to accomodate everyones desires but those of our heart.

half mast

perpetually fixated by the translucent fear fed through vacuum tubes pulsing with ignorant reactions, reductive and transfixed, encompassed, the cold glow lulls gently on, providing upon demand as a friend, teacher, father, mother, grandparent, pet, car, lifestyle, figure, face, teeth, eyes all but seeing the disguise shackling us in light.
nationalist pride blinded by the seizure patterned flickering stripes dripping half coagulated blood onto fire water fracking accidents oil spills, disasters ignored, abandoned until a valid investment opportunity arises.
meddle in our godlike affairs and disappear as though existence was never yours to dictate. laws demanding more from suspicious unsounded alarms scream as the terrorists close our minds inward further against imagined and calculated enemies. sacrificing indeed, smothering liberties an inch further by carefully orchestrated inactivated responses, better we asphixiate slowly, unwise to the slipknot tightening our teeth gnash desperately sucking in insufficient air, uselessly flailing as any sadist would enjoy.

Fallen Angels

hypnotized by the vapid sedating glare decisions are so much easier when forced through wide red rimmed eyes dripping sweetly into our subconscious desires. unattainable perfection produced for mass consumption thinly veiled by campaigns entrancing legions of potential collaborators fall neck first into the snare devoting their lives and blood to the unending pursuit of “material wealth.” empty minds and glazed eyes reflected in the sullen figures staring back from the mirror while another angel adorns every shimmering surface shiny enough that only stars can brighten and unify the pixels of the LED illuminating the cultural death that we relinquish in pursuit of peverted progress paving the way for a more complete control of their mindless subjects. congregations colliding only to collude into more powerful demons successively swallowing consoling and absolving all guilt and every minor who dares to stare long enough, leveraging altruism to allow aimed indulgences to lead their legacy and define life.


deceptively tantalizing debris steers me closer to the edge desperately searching familiar shines of new polymers promising purchases of new and exiting escapes. scabbed kneed and worn fingernails gather dust and dirt as i resort to savagery, succumbed while scavenging in a way i’ve only condescended upon prior to this time. to live on infamous in my psyche and resurface when gestures prevail providing faint perspectives of heaven.


TTC: we all stare silently ingesting the common discomfort, the escape from the all pervasive reality of eyes seeking refuge from the monotony of the plutocracy. lost in the evasion of connections another stranger struggles to not be noticed. grey spills into dark as the low rumble encompases scant glances nervously concealed, touches illuminate the experience but one can only speculate as the cars jaggedly undulate the inconsistent rhythm suddenly comforting as the steel beast shatters the pitch the hollow corridors suspending tepid secrets as the underworld slinks away shadows hiding their scars and tortured indulgences damned by the past, present, despising the future pestilence extending the sardonic grimace ear to crusted ear. saliva from the cracked lips of ruined canvasses checkered with pride and indignation we all find our spots and empty places to rest our shifting eyes resisting temptous lears at the attractions we momentarily quell only to be left behind within the fantasies of “what if” as long as the memory persists. brave alternate paths where the challenger to my ego resides on podium, strong and reverberent strangely positioned between dreams and pathetic confusion. the inevitable collisions render respect or quick vile responses directed at compensated targets. we lust endlessly when the smallest connection slips through crude fingers digging at the stale recycled air. we all suffocate together - if only for a stop.

I’m so proud to be a part of this release - John Farah is one of the most talented, creative performers/composers I’ve ever worked with and he has been a true inspiration in music as well as life - Please check out the entire album - its phenomenal! 

Forget Me 2 : Miniature Digital Butterflies

Forget Me 2 : Miniature Digital Butterflies

Pink Pond Lily Glitch

Pink Pond Lily Glitch