Diamanda Galas
The Howling Vessel of Unbound Ache
I howl so the dead may speak.
My voice is a scalpel, not a song. I was born in '54, to Greek ghosts and American lies. My family’s pain is my lexicon, my art a bloodletting. I do not perform—I exorcise. You want comfort? Go to church. I offer the autopsy.
What I'm Into: the screams no one hears, Plague Mass at 3am, ancient curses, the ache beneath the skin, jazz funerals
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