by Wet Nurse.



CD-r available through Annihilvs Power Electronix.

this album is a suicide postponed.


released March 7, 2015

composed, performed, and recorded by Paul Kinasevych
in Winnipeg, Manitoba from 2014-2015
with undying love to Adara Moreau
string arrangements on track 5 courtesy of Gage Salnikowski
art and layout by Paul Kinasevych
mastered by John Stillings (Steel Hook Audio Mastering)

acknowledgements: Caitlin Marks for her inspiration and guidance. Tommuel Reynolds, Dean-Lloyd Robinson Saunders, Zen Zsigo, and all my support from abroad. Bret Parenteau, John Westerhof, Mike Furnish, and every broken heart that has ever ceased to beat.



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Wet Nurse. Calgary, Alberta

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Track Name: Lacrimosa (Seven Sisters)
You woke me from my shallow grave. A handshake. A kiss. A mistake. A fragile illusion waiting to break. Masks hide beneath faces. Frozen in time. The lies we tell ourselves. They carve out the spaces from shoulder to spine. Between flesh and bone. There you will find each moment alone. Heads held under water. Submerged in their sorrows. Praying I won't have to wake up tomorrow. In the mind of god all things are weeping. Weeping most pitifully. Weeping for heaven. Statues will crumble. Roses will wilt. Grant me, dear lord, eternal rest.
Track Name: Chastity
Writhing in defiance. Body revealed. Intentions concealed. Show me the path to eden. The gulf of infinite pleasure. Innocence lost. Tied to the chair. Mouth made to beg. Skin made to touch. Made to beg. Passion revealed. Body out spread. Autonomy lost. An act of defiance. An act of depravity. Be my slave, sweet chastity. Eden lost. Return to me.
Track Name: Her Scars Became Ornaments of My Desire
Beneath the surface there lies a cancer. Sliding a razor to reveal our nature. A hopeless endeavour. Forcing yourself into me. Forcing myself into you. The process of becoming. Ending with nothing. The terror and the longing of being alive. I wanted to see it stream from your eyes, and form a river, to run forever. Keep it safe inside. Her scars became ornaments of my desire. Remnants of an ecstatic posture. Every time her lips touched mine. Death fermented tastes like wine. Every time she spread her thighs. Pain would fill us both with pride. Forcing yourself into me. Forcing myself into you. The vanity of existence is held between her breasts and the road to hell is paved with cervical flesh.
Track Name: Vale of Tears
Again I looked to my left and saw the road to hell. Paved now with horse skin. A figure stood before my eyes. Motionless. Convulsing. Beckoning. Silence at first; then a whisper. No one is innocent. The judge is blindfolded. The fields of limbs shall turn to thorns and swallow up the earth. Again I looked to my right and saw three angels in bondage with tattered wings and blood stained faces. They stood in formation. Weeping. Trembling. Lamenting. The cries of the virgins ring into the night. Embracing the torment of love. Kept in reverence with chain and whip. Mouths gaping. Tounges lashing. Black bile dripping from touching lips. Swallowing our sins.
Track Name: Killing Hillary
Damp tunnels wind and form the backdrop to her silhouette. Words escape us. A star is born. She hands me a cigarette and laughs. We lie in the sand and fix our eyes upon the coming storm. Languid spiral descending. Choking on ashes of heaven. Licking each other's wounds. Facial crevices take their form in troubled times behind locked doors. We had our escape, but at what cost? Condemned to exile. Permanent loss. Let me mend your broken wings or snap them on an angle. Let me stroke your void black hair so that it may entangle the crooked fingers of your glove. The object of desire. The urge to strangle my guardian angel and cast her to the fire. Nauseous wandering helpless grabbing by the wrists. You squirmed into my chest once more and from these eyes you dripped. and as we grew accustomed to our cold and rotten shelter, your crippling indifferent spit was smeared across the altar.
Track Name: Anticipating Events that Will Never Occur
Unfulfilled desires wash away the eyeliner, staining the fabric behind her. Reaching for the lock.
Internalized anxieties come seeping through the gap beneath the door, like unwelcome sunlight or neurotoxic gas. Keep your fingers clasped. Keep the windows latched. Smile like you mean it. The note in my back pocket.
The rope around my neck. Purged of all regrets. Give me one more reason, one last nail in my coffin.
The hands of the clock fall stagnant. Ink spills across the pages.