"This is the end
My beautiful friend
The end"

As one door closes so another opens... http://darkangelscave.blogspot.com/



discharge came about after cocaine jesus had visited a site called Vespertyn, the creation of the girl child genius who was once known as transience. together with doriandra smith (another divinity), cocaine jesus set about perverting this concept to a dark vision of his and doriandra's creation. the dark angels of discharge were born. after awhile others came (and went). discharge finished and was replaced by discharge 2 and then discharge 3, discharge 4, discharge 5, and now discharge 6 and the story continues... discharge also has, a diary blog called Reverse Metal, and various sites too, discharge facebook, discharge myspace, dark angels of discharge myspace, discharge google site, discharge weebly site , youtube discharge channel and a Network called Dark Angels Cave.


k 6



The Kid in the Red Seat



the words, all dried up. watched them float away in the devious wind. sparkled as they went, catching the eye of the reluctant crow.





Miss K, I love you. This to honour your faith in me... To my biotic dysmorp confines, I counterpart all your unreported cases, into the shallow graves of their own soiled espistemol. I must lose myself in you, as you said, and this digging is the only way I can divide as you require. See how I attend you, Miss. Please see how I time my bank of defective images, whose frequency describes the flawlessness of your rituals. Miss, your symptoms are my 15 minutes of fame.



Once in the American Mid-West there was a vampire town, a town without inhabitants or lice. To sustain itself the town would feed upon gas stations, small homesteads, buses and vehicles. Once gorged and fit enough the town would move on, in the cloak of night, occupying a fresh space in the dry wilderness. The greyhound buses were a favourite of the town’s, a preferred delicacy. Upon catching a bus the town would lift it to the sky and shake out its human contents, which were of no interest to the town, it would then suck upon the buses’ metallic and oily nutrients until it was a crumpled husk of integrated transport solutions.

And so it went on, it was a good time and the town found plenty to eat in the nights, things like gas stations bloated with fuel, wooden shacks full of bombs and embittered loners, mobile homes circled around lakes and the occasional family car. And the humans? Well they would run into the deserts and desolate spaces as the town fed upon their habitats and transport, invariably the humans starved, dehydrated and shrivelled in the widening expanses of withoutness.

Over the years the town grew strong and festered comfortably into a metropolis with tall fangs that pierced the sky and drew down aircraft into its void of delirium to be emptied of flesh and sucked at for their plastics, metals and combustible dope, that gave the now vampire metropolis such a high!



Bird Rotor


TEASER (...)





To mouther... You forget yourself if you think you dissemble me without slaughter. You always do. A century (and counting) of lies. I have no thoughts perambulatory or genius. Instead, I streak across in lexicon, celibate in language, and with demonstrations of indiscipline sorely lacking elsewhere . I'm interested, but I'm not obsessed. My mind is impotent and erogenous, but not for you, more because of you.

UN Shanti







Today I actually know I always like to imagine him working at me silently. In general I am his only prospect. Though I am low, fortunate and terrorist, I am his regulation, endlessly uncompliant, a toilet.

Society x

entities vast & mindless


Dolorosa - drawing








lk 636



Disconnected from Aaron Held on Vimeo.


bow down

She told me she heard it somewhere (some secondary source she may one day remember but I will never know) that there was a statue waiting inside the block of marble and all she had to do was take the chisel and uncover it, but (she was of this type) it led her to wonder if there was another, smaller, statue within the one she just carved, waiting to get out, and so she cracked what she had polished, hunted for a throughline as though the first form was just a fog hung low over a valley she could not see from the mountainside, and beneath this second form buried in the first (like a child, she guessed, not knowing) but there was another, and another, until the statue fit in the palm of her hand, the brute chisels given up for modified dissection tools and jeweler's brushes, small enough that the only suitable audience was the flies that fell into her hand, but if they saw a still smaller shape in the sliver of stone they never told her, or she never told me, or I'll never tell you.





the scaffold

Components: revolutionary grime, a guillotine, a drum roll.

A drum roll building to a crescendo. The victims head flies from the basket (being taken away) containing it and reattaches to the torso. The victim reformed stands up arms aloft and rejoices. He makes to walk away but his leg falls off. He picks up the errant leg, placing it under his arm and hops nobly off.

“Hops Nubly off! Don’t you mean wanked?”

“Eer no, nobly’s not a persons name.”

“My great uncle’s name was Nubly, Nubly Winkparsons.”

Angrily and at the end of a tether. “WAITER.” (they seem to be sat in a restaurant discussing the sketch.)

“Yes sir.”

“Have you ever heard of someone called Nubly? Of the name Nubly?”

“Why yes my niece is a Nubly, Nubly Felchvicar.”





Hiss and clothe the hope with the skins of millions of those adept at the art of cutting veins. In this cool lucid place we are alert, fortunate and emboldened by the flushes of first success.


Bitte Beruehren - by undRess Béton


family and the half bricks 074