CULT OF ZIR can see the present - A series of tunnels connecting something to nothing. Human insects feeding upon insects feeding on human need. A carousel buffet of fear and desire for gluttons and buffoons, spinning ever faster on a faulty axle. Somebody make it stop.

Vignettes of existential breakdown. Extra-terrestrial karaoke fodder. Breakup songs for holy guardian angels. Post-primate fumblings after truth so-called. Churning violent madness birthed in crazy love. Is there a window in this nowhere with a view back to somewhere?