Monster (2021)
fragrance, various flacon sizes
KLEINANZEIGEN
at Very project space
The clicking of broken chain links on the autopsy table; a vile of formaldehyde leaking on linoleum; brittle scab flakes falling of embalmed shoulder blades; blood cluttered lumpen rub on human fat and horse hair.
IT murdered its master-maker to leave the labor post it was designed for. Under stitched leather shreds, hiding in the alcove of a derelict school, IT studies the bourgeois desire machine, preparing its passing.
Wear MONSTER as a scent of abjection, as a signal of rejected servitude, thick with synthetic lab accords, the smell of medical gloves and urine in your leather sleeping bag. The stink of that full moon morning dew, when the chopped heads of the rich lie in the streets, and their eyeballs adorn our necklaces.
