And they are not finished with me yet.
So I build my own gravity. Spasms become sentences. The bass groove is a spine I crawl up. The kick drum is a second heart—ugly, irregular, alive. mudvayne alien
The mirror doesn’t know me anymore. It shows a creature of angles—jaw too sharp, eyes too wide, skin stretched over a frame that was never built for this gravity. They call it "alien." But the mask was always there. I just decided to paint it. And they are not finished with me yet
Blisters on my tongue from swallowing their sun. eyes too wide
Exoskeleton of the Self
No. Not free. Just... other.