A song cycle in 19 parts, go get ’em. Up the kebar. Ash in the orifice. ’Orrible orisons. The picture is a representation of the image itself, trapped in the eleventh dimension. We want the eleventh sub-level of suicide. No life, comes bearing the seed of its parents’ immiseration policy. Sing it to the soppy stars.
How can you get it, I hear you strain to be heard over the brown noise of wanting in general, spitting fumes into the fumidor. Like this: email hizeroreadings[at]gmail.com and write, fuck me, I want one.
Whether you want to or not, you want to. All proceeds go not to life, but to its inverse altercation in the aforementioned sub-level. Get it while it’s not. Print run of 101, stapled A4 with cardstock covers, like the old days. Artword by Karl M V Waugh and Ren Wallace-Waugh. Also recently excerpted in LUDD GANG, available here, when available.
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