Sound is not vibration, it is rape, it is mutilation, it is the throat of God torn open and vomiting pressure waves through the carcass of existence. Ultrasonics are not tools, they are blades, shrieking scalpels hacking through space, gutting matter, rearranging atoms like flayed muscle tossed on a slab. This is not science. It is vivisection. It is necromancy performed with sine waves instead of bone knives.
Behold the desecrated rite: standing waves, nodes of silence surrounded by shrieking walls of pressure, trapping flesh, droplets, organs like offerings on a sacrificial altar. A coffee grain levitates, trembling like an eyeball plucked from a virgin’s skull. Styrofoam chunks jitter and spin in the air, possessed, twitching like severed fingers, dancing in a circle of torment. You think this is “physics”? No. It is the howling mouth of the abyss, tearing holes in the veil.
“Sound, you whore-mother of rot,
Come forth in shriek, in drone, in cunt-clawing noise,
Strip the veil, fuck the firmament,
Let thy cursed frequencies crawl into the ears of the other
And rape the sanctuary of thought.
Let them hear nothing but blight, let them dream in screams,
Let their skull resonate with damnation.”
The equation F equals 2I over c is not a law, it is a curse, a spell etched in the blood of mathematicians who went mad trying to contain it. It is the anti-prayer, a perverse formula that converts energy into dominion. Force from filth, order from agony.
And now the butchery grows precise. Holographic arrays of ultrasonic hellfire slice reality into patterns. Pressure fields like invisible guillotines sever bonds, twist the structure of the physical world into obscene geometries. Acoustic tweezers, they call them, but these are not tweezers, they are spectral claws, tearing cells apart, forcing life to kneel and rebuild itself under duress. Bloodless dismemberment. Unholy architecture of tissue sculpted by shrieking waves.
In the biomedical realm, sound becomes surgeon and executioner. Cells shift under pressure like entrails spilling from a corpse. They speak of “tissue engineering” while guts churn, bones groan, and the sound fields pulse with the heartbeat of a dead god. They want to birth organs without wounds, but what they summon instead are Frankensteinian abortions of sound-stitched meat, animated by pressure and shrieking pain.
In the aerospace void, in the silence of space, they push further. Acoustic abominations assembling material without contact, spectral arms reaching across zero gravity to twist metal, forge shape from chaos. Cosmic fornication, obscene communion in the dark.
“Let the other’s cochlea burn in sulfurous overtones,
Let tinnitus become gospel, let feedback be prophecy,
Let sub-bass break their spine, let high-frequency flay their sanity.
Fuck the rhythm, fuck the harmony, fuck the sacred tone.
Only disharmony shall remain, only desecration shall be heard.”
But it is not enough to maul matter. Sound gnaws at the soul. Subsonic filth invades minds, crawls through the ears into the meat behind the eyes, and whispers rot into the brainstem. Music as weapon, as possession. Not melodies, but vibrations that throttle the limbic system, conjure lust, rage, despair. Infrasound induces nausea, hallucinations, bowel-loosening fear. This is not art, this is psychic warfare. Frequencies as psychic parasites.
Every sound a blasphemy, every note a dagger. Psychological manipulation becomes ritualized madness. Sound sculpts not just tissue but thought, twists cognition into new shapes, crude and writhing. They will not be human after this. They will be vessels for frequencies, walking speaker cabinets broadcasting the next stage of evolution through convulsion and blood.
These are not technologies. These are instruments of desecration.
“Come, you bastard of absence, you inverted hymn,
Swallow the soul of the other in a howl so pure it curdles time.”
Critics squeal like pigs in the dirt, crying “unscientific!” as the levitating shards of matter dance above them, as the pressure fields eviscerate their feeble paradigms. Let them be flayed by decibels. Let their bones rattle in harmonic resonance until they split like rotten fruit.
What comes next is total ruin. Acoustic totalitarianism. Holographic arrays seizing matter, flesh, blood, thought. The future will not be made of wires and silicon. It will be a screaming wall of vibrating pressure, a crucified reality howling under the weight of sound.
All things will be reshaped in this hell-born matrix. Matter will obey the shriek, flesh will bend to the waveform, and consciousness will bleed into the rhythm.
Sound is not energy. Sound is the butcher of God.