NO FRILLS. A SON OF SALEM. A SON OF SPLEEN. NYC IS THE CARCASS OF A DECAPITATED VAMPIRE. GATE THIS CITY IN & LET ME DO MY JOB. A SMEAR OF NIGHT. ANY NIGHT. EVERY NIGHT. A BLACK OCEAN BECKONS.
A tale of violence, mental illness, hallucination, and internal terror turned outward.
"I'd be remiss not to blood, and lots of it, redolent of metallic sick and carbonated honey organs, casted in synthetic tree flesh, a curse preserved and circulated. If we agree with the author that this book is a work of, "slasher worship," then we must also agree that it's an apt and ample offering to the pantheon of American gods and godesses, to the slasher-gorgons living rent-free in the bowels of our collective psyche." (from the book's foreword, written by Logan Berry -- author of (Run-Off Sugar) Crystal Lake [11:11] and Transmissions to Artaud [Self-Fck].