Rising like the terror of your computer’s torture within, Straight Faggot generates the Virtual Resurrect with a dichotomy that tugs until you break. That hesitance isn’t lassoed around your thought process, but it’s of your physical brain dropping in fluid levels: you just had a seizure, dude. Wake up, and it’s 9AM at work. Your typing is typing, but not words. Or, what ARE these buttons being pressed before you? Are these your fingers?
Which way is underground? I’d love to go further into that Straight Faggot. That’s where the solution lies. The directionless. Virtual Resurrect stutters again and again, and you can’t put your finger on it because RE: ARE THESE YOUR FINGERS?
Like and oscillating fan. A mirror with triple reflection, that of three mirrors upon one, and not actually three mirrors, no. Echos like they never existed. Feelings of grey and matter, and dark, though. It is no shape. The tangible will thoust be found in the Virtual Resurrect:
• Straight Faggot: http://straightfaggot.bandcamp.com
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