Apophallacy: Re​-​mastered

by Bleach For The Stars



Apophallacy – a snarled retort, where everyone loses something. I'd just like to know why, and am left wondering.

1. In the mating…the penis is inserted into the body of the partner. The penis may become trapped, in which case [it] is gnawed off by either the partner or the owner. No replacement penis grows, but the apophallated…can mate as a female. It has been proposed that preventing the partner from mating as a male might be adaptive in increasing its allocation of resources to the production of eggs.

2. A fallacy is the use of invalid or otherwise faulty reasoning in the construction of an argument. A fallacious argument may be deceptive by appearing to be better than it really is.

This re-mastered release charts my bleaker, yet also more accessible formal poems. The overriding theme is loss & subsequent dissolution, whether concrete and corporeal, interpersonal, or spiritual.

I set the pessimistic, grimly stoic verses to a noxious mixture of avant-garde noise-industrial, old-school dark electro, and hardcore techno; inspired as much by Mental Destruction, early Ministry and Thrill Kill Kult as by yelworC, X-Marks The Pedwalk and Ultraviolence, and filtered through the intellectual nihilism of Coil and Test Dept. – these are not easy or straightforward pieces to fully interpret, despite the driving beats. I hope you attempt them though, and find something of reflective enjoyment.

It was hard on the conscience approaching this album again. It is cold acid in my head. It’s worthwhile though, for the memories. They'd deserve that.


released April 8, 2017

All music, words and art: Ben Power



all rights reserved


Bleach For The Stars Harwich, UK

Grotesque post-industrial noise, obsidian atmospheres of despair & holocaustic avant-garde poetry accompanied by one of the nastiest vocal deliveries ever haemorrhaged out of a bleach-corroded throat.

There’s no humour in this, just the cold of an Eastern gallows, bitter as all dead love.

Blood-shod; hauling a bergen of skinned dreams up the raw foothills of Gehenna... and towards catharsis.
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Track Name: Beat

We entered, fleeing entropy and bile
Loathing the lazy tremor of the streets.
Though night was never mine I stayed a while.

Companions of decay and stiff denial.
In binary opposition but discreet.
We entered, fleeing entropy and bile.

Between the softly vacant and the vile
A grunt of bodies gnawing on the heat.
Though night was never mine I stayed a while.

His hagfish eyes soon knotted round her smile
To rip out conversation's rancid meat.
We entered, fleeing entropy and bile.

A mould of minds but each with toxic style.
Me for the drained glass, him to hunt, kill, eat.
Though night was never mine I stayed a while.

To fix on each face with such perfect guile,
A gift I'd bore with diamond to defeat.
We entered, fleeing entropy and bile.

Some throbbing fear has dragged us down these miles,
Seeping through hearts we hammer with conceit.
Though night was never mine I stayed a while.

No single action could be classed worthwhile
Though all our world remains and will repeat.
We entered, fleeing entropy and bile.
Though night was never mine I stayed a while.
Track Name: Cast

In your tanned eyes I see the stars burn out.
I watched a rain that could not speak or shape
The hills of your cold country, cause you any doubt
Whether the sky was cheap glass born to break

Against your face. You gnaw at the hard dust
Between days spent in the dreaming of nails
Strike with their acid howls for common rust.
For you all kingdoms came, all kingdoms failed

And their shadows you walk, cutting your feet
To the tremble of a tied moon. To hate
And to the slow, sad rip of wounded sleep
And a dawn splintered to sticks as you wake

Clasping for change in pockets full of holes.
Through them your head pours down. I cannot dress
You with a single thought. And no bright shoals
Of wild warmth swim inside. At all ends less

Being in your brief, strung, mercantile light
Falling in ditches, dumb to blossom, bare.
Your stream champions ice and bleaker night
And worst of all I know you could not care.
Track Name: Surface

I itch for laughter in the summer cold
And tear through night, and chop out chunks of rain
To furnish my mind's attics. Sour distain.
Not for the loss of concept, nor the old

Shiver that pulls down worlds. Merely the silt
Clawing through arteries of wasted sleep.
The buzz of metal when I try to weep.
As if the bloom of light itself could wilt

And fall back into that abyssal sea
That spawns such thought. The will to waste a day
Even a hacking second's shadow-play
On being all I once could almost be.

I will preserve these memories in tar.
I will encase myself in harder time
And guzzle stale words like the cheapest wine
And, bending backwards, vomit on the stars.
Track Name: Drinking Mirages
Drinking Mirages

You never told me and I never knew
And even now you paint the roses blue.
A crease of shadows cracks our crystal trees
Wafting the musk of burning libraries.
Those almost-honest maps of truth you drew
Evaporating like the morning dew.
Uncharted voices in a pale parade
Summoned the dogs to taint her charmed cascade.
Filling her head with locusts dropped a price
Annihilation’s garbage stitched with ice.
A summer sun’s necessity will fade –
The greatest lie to light this masquerade.
Over the backs of stars the slow blames creep
Yearning for time to treasure or to weep.
Track Name: Still

Another rip of afternoon remolds
In units of a crass, ceramic cold.
All brain song bent by this euphoric waste
This serpent calm that pisses on our taste
And peels apart our tamed tears. We grow old.

These filthy eyes design their cheap belief
And stop to crack down time with dirty teeth.
We are the pebbles flung by winter waves.
We thrust our scars through skinny light. Our graves
Lie in the mire of nothing underneath.

With minds sculpted from spit, we planted thorns
In hope of roses. Still, we were not warm.
We are the moths around a dying star.
Our blood is fallen leaves and screaming tar
And that is all, and all our dreams are torn.
Track Name: Revelation

The heart: an ashtray; rusting faith
The grind of pills resounding in the dark
Between sad galaxies and stained remarks.
A gash of air, a glimpse that starts to chafe
Where stones cry out for shadows, and the trees
Bray to the beat of blister and disease.
Remain disdainful, shoddy effigies.

The skin: tattooed with tension, burnished
Blind. Mindful of the ragged flame of time
The gutted, hollow gasp of the sublime.
A loose decay, cracked black traffic furnished
With fear, melodies of dust on desperate keys.
The slow, select despair as feelings freeze
Or drop uneasy warmth with equal ease.

The sun: a used coin stamped with shine,
Resigned to show a sprawl of sacred tears.
A dismal bliss devalues the divine
Water reverting softly back from wine.
Track Name: Wracked

With fired Summers I will toast the year.
Their rent husks lie there neutered on the ground
In failed exuberance; and all around
The thought of shapeless heads reduce to tears.
With evening comes the scratching of our fear
The subtlety ripped out in lumps of sound.
To clench this knowledge we ourselves are bound
And herded into dusk and all that’s drear.
The trunk of human time stretched tight within
Does little for the paucity of dream.
A vital mouth is struck beneath our skin
And all the world is echoes of its scream.
Track Name: Dazzle

It is no recompense to undermine
The conscience, or to mediate with tar.
Better to blaze relief in my design
Out of the furrow towards the light of stars.

This present, handed out to fit my face
Could not be worn without the growth of pride
And would not turn my world, had I no grace
To oversee that warmth and stir inside.

To live with order, always, never blindly
I dream for those who would respond, and kindly.

To live with order, always, never blindly
I dream for those who would respond, and kindly.
Track Name: Hitch

The wrinkled room sunk on a spoon
Wired walls are gristle ground apart
Tarring the hapless howl of each heartbeat
Declared impairment scarred onto folding stars.
Homeless from hope where only the dope is sweet
Flexing dementia tension like treacle strewn.
Vein drained regret grafted to shafts of cigarettes
Stale inhalation face staple pale from pins.
Wraith gaze tracing through pages of waste
Clock rotted time torn for another taste.
Black tracks tripping across scabbed skin
Lying limp dim crippled in fetters of sweat.
Pools of ridicule chemical blemish bound
Thrusting through rubbish to shred with sickle sound.
Track Name: Lot

There is rain in my father’s touch
Under the tapestries of sweat
To the flocking of steel words
I bend, and breathe his thunder

He reads from the night
Hearing its knocking in another name
And knows the measure of his mind is growing old
Still, locking that window
Patching up the floor
Pleasure is re-wrought

Time can only be discussed to the dribbling of taps
Our treasures melted down to mend a pipe
Wiping dust off those shelves
His finished hands are as stones
Skimming their distant sea.

We readjust
Wash our faces through the frost
Strike new bones on kindling
But the spark is not as strong
Even if he could
He would not atone
For this parody of passion
Played too long

I know that one day soon he will be gone
I know that one day soon he will be gone
I know that one day soon he will be gone