Suspiria ★★★½

Speak to me bones, and break to the rhythm. Rattle with the swinging limbs, the thumping keys and powered feet pummeling the floor to the otherworld’s hymn. The matron soothes in the carnal spell, giving the flesh to the frolic and the mind to the grayed, dead chambers of spinning symphonic tortures. Stability like soft linen, precious smooth skin, ripped and gouged by an unholy cadence grand and tinged from the rain-pattered Berlin roads to the drained reflective halls.

Melodies hexed. Dances of animals in the beautiful wicca brew. Femininely gracious, yonically conjured. The Body, and The Resounding Mutter’s Beat.

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