Artist Mid Leopard Violet Prism
Label Total Vermin
Genre(s) Psychedelic Noise
Distant rumbles and the sound of metal fighting with itself float on a bed of electronics. Like a cluttered street filled with faceless robots, enyet we refuse to notice. Warbled and tortured one of the few remaining humans screams for attention, ranting and heaving. It's hard to focus on the philosophical quandry that he attempts to vomit onto your lap due to the smog that is rising from the ground. It doesn't matter because it's too late anyway. This isn't post-apocalypse, it's mid-apocalypse. Tremors shake the ground as the skies turn inky black, almost rippling with the thunderous destruction.
After it all, one robot still shakes, slowly attempting to stand. Spasming amidst a pile of his brethren, sparks against cracked dirt. "Life" signs yet. Slowly the cold metal rises. To begin his journey for purpose. Crumbled buildings barely stand as a sign that there was once life here. A million screams were muted here before, how long ago was that? Pressing onwards, a harsh sun bakes the landscapes. Dirt and dust stretching to infinity. He will walk forever on these planes.
The constant heat on the metal. How long has he wandered? He has no need for time. The detritus is almost gone now, and with it his purpose. Something is wrong, he thinks.... He was not programed to think. He has no need for thought, he needs purpose. His joints, unoiled and screaming, grind to a halt as a dust storm covers him. Enshrouded in dust, bathed in darkness he is alone with his thoughts for eternity.