Razor is the journey of a lost soul who is stripped of all and made new. Subject to the fabric of artificial creation.

razor

at 0237; the seam unraveled again, it shows a scene of vivid recollection, but misshapen and distorted. warped almost by memory, but not mine. it felt warm and familiar, but when closed took with it a piece of being; I await another view.

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it is 0149; again, I saw the fabric tear and twist as it shot in to my temple, and gave sights of this other land. it spoke: of masses on blinding midnight, rows of tarnished instruments of inscrutable nature still glimmering and humming of their own accord, just as the waves enveloped me it sent this vessel back, I feel empty now

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time 0302; it finally reopened. the door shed me of this fleshy cage and took me home. I hear the familiar dirges of spirits from the cathedral of the Coloss, deep within his opened ribcage. I sang along as a sea of distorted waves from the shivering bones passed over me and filled the fibres of my soul; but quickly felt myself slippening away and awaykening. trapped, like before…..

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sol-time 0;213: I could hear it coming. earlier, he began whispering on the edge of this mind. I lie, staring at the door, when the songs of the brethren tore through this plane and carried me Home. as his eyes seared my epidermal cage, and the breath of answers reverberated in my lungs, a crushing beating tore out from the catacombs and dragged me down to this dull familiarity. it has latched me to this thing for a reason, I must remember…

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7219; amidst dè see uf flote n gea, dé rikss of fhie mae nevr dai. our Home swirling amidst His essence,  the intruder claws at the corners of my psyche. it cries unceasingly of the woes a feeble mind engenders seeing His glory. I feel it drawing me in against our will, the benal realm calls to it, and I am weak. hoel n sen di lendifallh, kabbechkegfulh wul nt e sfol.

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forfalln de wretse fy reh stengei. raf trennen retzeh fr zamnun
I find myself fading in to that place again, 
it draws the recent addition of this unnatural vision. 
I’ve noticed increasing structural distress in the pathway every escapade,                                          	
these visits may be numbered… what then? 
 nt sen sennen tr’fir de laadgz. Ieh de fisetten sallemndun mytshekhn

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stengrlff, Hallkhrst de Grytt; t'h laadzhen rhiesston'dr. vo dé aar lunde šol? ---This space… it feels unnatural, yet, familiar? 
A fragment of me remains  in this land of fleeting visions and eldrich questions --- zist'lh grykgen de luss fy stried, t forfalln al de luystn-frstum. sfol nt wret kaalle fyrm de lagnhöllsen

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de fhrèns-luz fa’allen; fyrm stengyk’t’grétt... lüs, lüs, sé tredna sen kxvrs
lägnazt nt fy kabbeckh t'lonnend fr'n klvtè uf d’Gr\X/ytt, lonn dai fr de kollekdennàtt

heinrusj, aln reh de frésteghèn, en den falln né fyr'kloss Köll
kxvrsse höel\x/lsen, kxvrsse de sol'n ne e'töhl

it is no more/I am lost...

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