Para aquellos que quieran bajarlo, comprarlo o lo que sea:
Pigface - Easy Listening for Difficult Fuckheads - Binary Stream (spoken word).this is a vision of my world seen through membranous eyes.
this is the oceans filled with technicolor nuclear fish
their mutated metal scales riveted together,
glowing incandescent iridescent in the pitch-dark depths
deep below the steel-belted skies.
this is a 122,000 line, dense pixel-field, million-gig scan of
escalators ascending and descending endlessly,
shuttling through soaring mega-monuments of tinted glass,
mingling subterranean in worm-hole subway tunnels,
underground walkways and maintenance channels,
forming a sprawling interconnected warren of
damp floro-tube bright veins,
clogged arteries slowly choking on hustling, faceless humanity,
packed and swarming at all hours,
sightless and colorless, moving by preset.the world is over heated by the mass of televisions and
microwave ovens and radio waves and com-sats strung like
fuse-burned christmas lights overhead.
millions of broadcast waves break over the globe.
we've burned the wings off of angels with our molten heat
mobile phones and laptops cross-jamming each-other's frequencies,
shuddering, juddering, shivering activity.
the language of numbers chattering.
everything’s moving so fast that if you stand still on the
metal-plate platforms that constrict the globe
you can feel the vibrations and tectonic motions.this is grey skies dense with a patchwork of contrails..
the inter-lacing lines that score the sky,
that's how you know this is a major nexus, midair collisions
flash across the firmament in angry oranges and hot-white
black smoke plumes coiling up from strangled wreckage..
this is the unfamiliar sky gone faceless once again.
the heavens a gritty sagging underbelly,
static colored the same way every day, all day long
until it gives over to a burning, jaundiced yellow night,
limp and heavy with moisture,
keening with sirens and shouting alarms.
the night air, a foul, backed-up drain, its water
slick with oil and flotsam.this is my poisonous world, nervous with flashing lights,
endlessly dripping from up above,
outlined in chalk from below.
Guard in Heaven patrols the electrified fences.i close my eye-slits and listen to the
bridge support cables moan and hum in the wind.
a red beacon sweeps slowly above my implanted head.safety locks bolting and unbolting in the flow,
the hissing of their decompression keeps me awake at night,
washing through my synapses and jumbling my junctions.
behind the light shutters my head begins to ache again,
information overload.
my migraine is the cold of inner-space.
i get retina-burn from too much input.
nights like this it feels as if the whole world is on fire.
watching the pirate broadcasts,
i see the face of a god form in the static waves.this is the sound of the signal slowly fading away,
it’s the sound of blood passing through the fibrous veins of the world.
it’s the vibration of information in quantum growth.
it’s the sound of thought reaching light speed.
it’s the loneliest sound i’ve ever heard.
Jared Louche
