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Artist
ViceGrip
12+ albums
hardcoreshoegazecrossoverhardcore punkstompy
about
Chapman awakes and raises his cold hands to rub his cheek and feels the thin beard that had accumulated like overcast over the three preceding days. Was I a different person when I shaved last? He pulls himself out of bed, and walks to his armoire where a package of half empty cigarettes lay. He lights one, finishes it quickly, extinguishes it, and pulls out another. He smokes and his countenance was a mixture of imperturbability and enervation.He peers out of his 6th floor window, and looks down at the peaceful snow covered monroe park below; disgusted at the sight of children frolicking. Angered, he begins to throw two-day-old pizza from his window, attacking anyone courageous enough to venture below his window sill, and cursing anyone who walks just out of his reach. The tempest is raging. No shelter nor help is nigh for these weak. The a palpable smell of fear and hate lingers throughout the air, a smell he knows too well. He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the window, and quickly the smirk that had made its way onto his face disappears. "What have I become?" He becomes hemmed in his reflection, and watches , never blinking, waiting. As if he expected the image to move by itself. A single tear breaks free from his left eye. His mind begins to drift off. A collage of peaceful memories collects in his mind (shit like his first fuck and getting raddydrunk) and fill the empty blackness of his eyelids. He awakes from this vacation from reality, and mutters
