P.O.S.

Allow me to fanboy out a second right quick.

NEW P.O.S.????? BROLY SHIT BRO, I FUCKING NEEDED SOMETHING TO ESCORT MY FISTS INTO THE FUCKING AIR LIKE I NEEDED THE SNOW TO FUCKING MELT AND A NICE STEADY RAIN RINSE OFF ALL THE BULLSHIT MEMORIES OF A WINTER THAT CAN SUCK MY ASS. A new P.O.S. is exactly what the fuck I wanted without knowing I wanted it damnit. (Is this where the kids say "yaaaas"? JUST WONDERING.)

P.O.S.'s "sleepdrone​/​superposition" is an eight minute and forty eight second rage filled celebration of anger. The only thing consistent throughout this entire song is your fingernails buried deep into the skin of your palms. Holy FUCK this dude encites the part of me that wants to break shit, and then calmly and eloquently explain why it all this shit needed breaking in the first place.

If I'm picturing this song being delivered in person, it's P.O.S. pacing in front of an empty stage the size of a Ford Fiesta that gets gradually more and more packed with his friends that randomly throw words in the same direction as he does. I'd be lying if I said I could pick out which of his friends says what. But take your fucking pick from either Allan Kingdom, Astronautalis, Eric Mayson, Kathleen Hanna, Hard_R, Lydia Liza, Lizzo, or Nicholas L. Perez. Yea, there's 81.8% of a fucking football team mulling around pissed off on this track. And it's a sinterception bro. *YAAAAAAS.* (OH FUCK OFF, I FEEL SASSY AIGHT?)

Enough rambling, buy this shit. It's fucking all sorts of hell the fuck yes.