That mound just beyond the shadow of this block’s last telephone pole. Maybe it’s a few miles out. And animal sounds echo and dull the humming emitting from it’s bend in the sky. Closer yet, that mound presents a small opening at the bottom. A crack up the entire mound’s solid-state rock surface. No light. As if a ritual proceeds inside with piecing high-notes, chanting eyes-backward, and pummeling paced bass. This cloaked creature alone beckons you into this beyond. Hasufel’s visage covered in an unidentifiable animal skull. No instruments or speakers, it’s all pretend(?) or just too dark. MANIFESTATIONS OF THE SPIRIT dethrones your psyche. Melting proliferates:
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