Possession Featuring Parth Bharadwaj

Are the things we love one more way to loathe ourselves? The Bukowskian "Let it kill you". Unworthiness. The moth to the flame. Sheer lunacy smacking sweet on the edges of your mouth. Eyes rolling to the back of your head leaving you white eyed. Ecstasy or acknowledgement of the absolute idiocy of the exercise? Self-flogging our way to a bloodthirsty god's paradise.