SIX LYRICS over at BRUISER MAG (preview)
SCREEN DOOR FISHNETS. Noble yearning sours into violent panaceas that literalize analogies of brains dragged by glass. Beads of sweat like rain droplets running down a screen door. The body paint makes them look like figures in a degraded VHS tape; blazing magentas crackled through with ashing cigarette bars of magnet damage. I know it’s real when the muscles push me out out of instinct. BRUISER MAG THE PLACE
