On The Sunny Side Of The Skull

by Medroxy Progesterone Acetate

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Tracks 01, 02 and a live version of 03 originally released as On the Sunny Side of the Skull c60 on Midwest Death Cult, July 2006. 04 originally released as I Walk On Broken 8-Tracks in an edition of three (or so) on eight tracks left at a truck stop in Elk Run Heights IA 2002, a different version of this recording can be heard on the ha-hitsonim album. Bird Fanciers Lung originally recorded live at the Exposition of Deformities show at the Hudson Machine Network, Iowa 050506 -- current version has since been junked up considerably. Thanks to everyone, everywhere. Special archival thanks to April Larson. Dedicated to the memory of Adam Cooley.


released May 28, 2015




Darren Bauler Milwaukee, Wisconsin

Drones built and prepared by hand, the old-fashioned way, delivered directly to your head. Formerly known as Midwest Death Cult (until I left the midwest), Delexnos hosts the albums of Medroxy Progesterone Acetate and related bands.

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Track Name: The Ballad Of The Final Wisdom
The final wisdom appeared at the foot of my bed as a crippled girl with clouds of blood in her eyes. The tendriled flowers in her left hand she brought to her face as if to breathe from fell apart beneath my gaze. The final wisdom began to sing from a shake of the bones in her chest. She bounced up and down to rub her ribs, a low drone eminating from her, stuck in the bedsheets. She tapped a second cadence with the tips of her fingers on the bedposts. The final wisdom spat teeth and clumps of clotted blood onto my covered legs and feet. "Manifest strictly on-earth, place where all ideals examined and judged, and as one cannot appear twice in same form all is difference and shall continue on and on until all forms have been seen, which is nearly eternal." She had spun wind in her mouth and blown into the faces of all the flowers, which trembled and twisted. "Keep from my bed, final wisdom, in any of your forms. "Thrones and dominions are as nothing to me, all that which is, the thread and threat of your very meat." The final wisdom spattered the oak of the floor with the small rain and made as if to bless the shivering flowers. She gnawed on her tongue as if it was beyond her control, as if it rushed to escape her throat. Her body hummed like a struck bell. Pools of the thicker blood puddled in the valleys of the bedsheets, between my thighs. Now I was asleep and in my dream I walked alongside the final wisdom to a bend in the road where a hole had been dug. I was so tired I could not raise my arms. The drizzle soaked into my skin and weighed me down. The final wisdom begged I should bed with her at the bottom of the hole. Her arms had been broken in multiple places and she could not lower herself down without my help. Her body followed the curve of mine like the black fluid I had swallowed on the night when I was someone else. The skin around her mouth had been gnawed away by infection and left her a leer she could not put down. The cicadas shivered and filled the air around us with a rattle which brought up spasms in her, pearls trapped in her throat, the wet skin where she had the rings cut from her fingers trembling in the moonlight. Further we went to a tree whose branches dug into the ground. Eggs grew along the trunk and branches of this tree, some as large as a child's fist, each containing something which scratched and cried. The final wisdom began filling her lower mouth with mud, so as to feed the child therein. Overhead geese hid in the clouds and tried not to see us. The air was all rotted pumpkins, burning leaves and the shriveling of plants which live atop still waters. Here there were frogs and salamanders who breathe the water and reeds which crawled along the riverbank on hindlegs and tails. There was a mossy growth in her mouth which I could feel as I stuck my fingers inside, a tidal ripple with each swallow, tears on the back of my wrist. There was something stuck to the back of her throat, like a pinecone caught in amber, but I could not reach far enough to keep hold. The mist had bloated my skin, it hurt to curl my fingers or bend my knees. A smell of halfeaten things. The final wisdom asked for my second name and all the eggs on all the trees began tapping and clawing in unison. Gel-weapons came out of her pores and I was paralyzed. The final wisdom gestured to the horizon where her armies gathered. We were at the bottom of a well, capturing daylight in a mirror whose binding was woven around her throat. "Doll-twins, you and I. I will birth you innumerable children who can only be seen one at a time, holding the other siblings in its stomach until a hole for hiding and form-transfer can be found. Your uterine prayers are trapped in my body. All heaven dips low to grace your crown." "You've buried poisons in my blood. You are not my redeemer. Please let me return to my bed and my death and my grave." The final wisdom placed her mouths over my eyes and whispered blessings directly into my brain, and again I was changed, so that she became an indefinite mass, some blur of color and phoenemes which shimmered and pulsed, and her voice exceeded the limits of my hearing, and I was alone, the curtains drawn and the lights off, hidden from my enemies and from everyone I had ever loved, bathed in the marker-blood of the sow.