actuallygreg:

Yep, you know it. That fucking time.

Again.

That time where I put GALO SENGEN on repeat until I fall into a trance.

A deep sleep.

And then I awaken, bloody and naked as the day I first entered this wretched plane from the hellish portal that was my mother’s womb.
And I will open my mouth

But it is not sound that comes out.

No, that would be too kind.

The sound that comes out is GALO SENGEN. Not the song. Not the words. The essence of it. You are assaulted by the very IDEA.

GO GO GO GO GO GO
GALO SENGEN

It echoes through every fiber of your measly being.

And soon, all of existence for as far as your weakened, bleary eyes can see is blotting out. It is fading. You forget your father’s name. A tree shudders once, but before nary a leaf can fall, both are lost to the warping space closing in around you.

And you open my eyes.

I open yours.

We are one.

We are GALO SENGEN.

GALO SENGEN is all we are.

GALO SENGEN is all.

I close your eyes.

You close mine.

We are nothing.

Night blogging alert.