chopsyn

[chopsyn]

Violent masquerade.

[chopsyn]

A film of cold sweat spirals in your face, pins and needles in your gums as acrylic insects crawl down your back

[chopsyn]

Blessed day to shed shame

[chopsyn]

Wrath.

[chopsyn]

Fun, Fun, Fun.

[chopsyn]

I dreamt about you last night, I woke with my teeth numb and blood on my chest with no wound.

[chopsyn]

A bloody helix engraved in your teeth fills an ornamental kiss between you and the shattered glass on the floor, eyes upon eyes watch as you thrash and fill the room with the scent of screeching iron

[chopsyn]

Keratin spirals nauseate the scraping of your shoulder blades, teeth sink into pools of flesh, and you wonder if the flooding sensation of metal and firewood is the same she tasted years ago.

[chopsyn]

GRAVITY LOOP: YEAR ONE COLLECTION

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featuring work from @lichenritual @hr-freud @chopsyn @cds-art @spacemanmacchiato @latticeparable and more

[chopsyn]

The mournful song of the deep breathing woods

[chopsyn]

A bottle of strawberry shine passed to your hand, a playful grin defects to your muscles, and smoke burns the inside of your laughing breaths till tears cleanse the lying blades of grass

[chopsyn]

When the Anti-christ visited Mary it was a cool Wednesday amidst humidity, the weather felt like a bruise, she greeted him with dismissive warmth, like a friend with whom she had shared blossomed youth, but was burned along the way. The holes in his hands inverted to embrace her and she coldly agreed. "the weather is like it was when we first viewed Jorge's funeral." She felt bile come up in her throat, "it's a little warmer than that day but yeah, something, a little, like it was" they both smiled.

[chopsyn]

Whistling pots of words strain through your veins. Your lover is lost in the crowd, bleeding from her brain. There's something out of the corner of your thoughts that's been coagulating for years. When memories fail, drink heartily from the cup of your neighbors tears

[chopsyn]

Scared.

[chopsyn]

Once a year my lover comes down from the mountain with fire in her lungs. She takes great joy in drinking from the liquor tree, and dancing till her spirit is a spark in the baptizing whiskey river.

[chopsyn]

Your blood pumps, pumps in your legs. Your throat feels like a bloody rag, stomach, like boiling water, and drool mixes with the gasoline in your inside thoughts.

[chopsyn]

Inside your fuzz.