in a jar she kept its stillborn roots
and stripped its bark from me
the dregs of a cradle im swallowing splinters
and scraping the dry rot from my gums
no resonance dragged from this wooden maw
could shape a statuette or sonnet
merely a maladroit farewell
left to decompose upon torn shards of parchment
miasmic gown atop our naked thatching
feeble loom i strung your heathers
like frail tendons
clinging to a rivers bed
Polish noise-crust outfit eschews the big Tragedy-esque riffs still popular with their US counterparts for scratchy claustrophobia. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 2, 2016