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Well of the Disquieted

by Hands Of Despair

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1.
“Au crépuscule d’une vie, d’un soir, voici l’histoire d’un homme, las d’une vie emplie, qui prend la plume, contemplant sa propre perte.”» L’encre s’écoule, obscurant ces pages, encore une fois, l’alcool ne suffit plus, le désir, cette grande mascarade de l’ennui; “Désormais affaibli, au terme d’une existence parsemée d’accomplissements, tu as su offrir ta jeunesse, ta fougue et ton sang, dans l’espoir d’édifier passionnément ce monde, d’y parachever l’Utopie.» Que de rêveries vaines!” Repoussante entité s’éprenant à nouveau de mon être. Repoussante entité s’enracinant à nouveau en moi! Au couchant de ma vie, je ne trouve plus la force, d’étouffer le regret. Ce sont ces mots qui me lient, à cette plume... Cherchant plutôt l’accord de l’être au matériel, j’ai bien vu le sablier s’écouler, Au rythme de mes ivresses, de l’amour des proches, de tous ces détours intentionnels et les années qui défilèrent. Au couchant de ma vie, je ne trouve plus la force, d’étouffer le regret. Ce sont ces mots qui me lient, à cette plume, à cette voix. "Qu’en reste-il désormais, à l’heure de l’introspection? Ces regards indifférents d’une jeunesse apathique? Ce monde n’est plus que déchirures et j’y ai produit ma part de poussières..."
2.
L’encre s’écoule, obscurant la nuit, encore une fois, les heures fuient sans apaisement. Une force noire guide mes pensées. Je le sais au fond de mes cogitations, cet être, incontrôlable, parangon de mon désespoir, déjà sa plume m’appelle. En cette nuit, l’horreur d’une résistance! Futilité! Je sombre en lui,de par mes mots, je te promets, tu verras à nouveau! «”Vois s’élever déjà le vent de la décadence qui ébranle, d’acharnement, l’accomplissement. En es-tu toujours aussi fier, éphémère passager? L’oeil du temps ne sait pas épargner.” Serrant le poing d’une inutile rage, appréhension d’un funeste destin. Pour cette cause, injection de sens en mes jours, ais-je vraiment la force de contempler ce déclin? “Lentement, le brouillard de l’ignorance recouvrira les nécessaires réalisations d’hier, tes larmes n’empêchant rien. Tu assisteras, le moment venu, à l’oubli d’un idéal, sacrifices de plusieurs.” Égaré en ces réflexions, les dédales de l’esprit telle une prison (telle une prison!) Égaré en ces réflexions, les dédales de l’écrit telle une libération (telle une libération!) Que restera-t-il, sinon les ruines de l’acte? Sombres vestiges d’un monde dans lesquels j’erre encore. “Et qu’attends-tu encore? Qu’espères-tu y faire, toi, poussière parmi les souffrants du sablier? Ne ressens-tu pas déjà ces chaînes qui t’emprisonnent? Le temps, l’ennemi commun des hommes t’a fait prisonnier de ton incapacité!”
3.
L’encre s’écoule, obscurant ma vie, à nouveau s’essouffle ma volonté. Son étreinte m'enlise dans les affres du tourment. “Où est ta place désormais? Ce monde t’a rejeté. Dans ces ruines qui pavent ton existence, ne perçois-tu pas ton reflet? » Béante noirceur, de son voile couvrant ce quotidien. Que de jours fades, que sommeils sans repos (sans repos!) Aaahhhh! Sombres agitations! Seul face à l’abîme, plus que cette haine lancinante qui spolie, enlaidie tout ce qui m’entoure. ”Vieil homme, pour la première fois, tu contemples la mort. Ne crains pas, elle te sourit. Désormais s’ouvrent pour toi les mains du désespoir.”
4.
Doppelganger 12:40
Memory’s faint, a dark and musty place, drapes beyond the door: “What’s this you’re lookin’ for?” Stepped inside the tent. “Come hither, my friend.” She sits me on the floor: “Found you what was looked for?” The Master shakes it in her hands, marked with the runes of foreign lands, a handfull of blackened telling bones divining times and tales forlorn. She lets them roll unto the rug, a wicked smile and then, a shrug, for what she reads upon the bones: “A rancid omen”, said the crone. She then proceeds to grab my hand, place it upon a withered deck of Tarot, wrought with runes enscribed, divining fates with astounding sight. The draw of figures, one by one, the table set, oh! Ancient Gods, to peer and see what Past has said, what Present writes, what Future held. Turn the cards. Heed the call. Turn the cards, reveal what the fates have ordained. Heed the call, the Hermit pulls you inward. Ascendancy, self is shown, delving much deeper inside. Eight engraved cups of stone, drink from the wisdom inside. Turn the cards. Heed the call. Turn the cards, obey what the fates have arranged. Heed the call, the Hermit pulls you inward. Materiality, worth is shown, finding the riches inside. Eight engraved cups of stone, consume the nectar inside. This is I, / This is you... cards won’t lie. / Tell the truth! What have I learned from the reading? Peering through, / What was seen? Sensing you / Please tell me! yet, strange enough, seeing myself! Turned away, / In the end... gone astray, / ‘Round the bend... constant for lifetimes and lifetimes! Eight of cups / Eight of cups? Unfulfilled / Unfulfilled! Eternal inner search for peace Denied, never to find true bliss. A hunger that’s neverending. This is you, / This is I? Through and through / Cards won’t lie. Forever leaving constructs behind. Peering through, / What was seen? Sensing you / Please tell me! yet, strange enough, seeing yourself! This is I, / This is you? cards won’t lie. / Tell the truth! What have I learned from the reading? Eight of cups / Eight of cups? Unfulfilled / Unfulfilled! Eternal inner quest for peace Denied, never to find true bliss. A hunger that’s neverending. Thus it comes to this, the awakening, it’s yourself staring in your eyes! Now it falls to this, the realisation, he’s yourself standing in front of you! It all comes to this, the awakening, it’s yourself staring in your eyes! It was all for this, the realisation, he’s yourself standing in front of you! So it comes to this, the awakening, it’s yourself staring in your eyes! And it falls to this, the realisation, he’s yourself standing in front of you! Seek the core for the vein and take it out. Seek the core for the vein, pull it out. Find the source of the vein and rip it out. Find the source of the vein and tear it apart.
5.
Dearest, I feel certain I am going mad again. I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I shan't recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can't concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don't think two people could have been happier till this terrible disease came. I can't fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can't even write this properly. I can't read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that - everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can't go on spoiling your life any longer. I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been. V. Elle court se perdre dans ses écrits mondains. Noyer sa peine comme la pointe de sa plume. Recluse, interne déluge, quand la santé s’use, les pensées diffusent. Chercher refuge, constamment confuse, tentatives de purge de pensées intruses, en vain. S’abandonner,tout oublier. Lointain, ce regard éteint observe sans fin, fenêtre en son sein, cherchant la suite,tournant insolite, projection fortuite, rêverie construite, malsain. Abandonner, s’exiler. Elle court se perdre dans les bras de sa soeur. Noyer sa peine dans les élans de son coeur. Recluse, interne déluge, quand la santé s’use, les amours diffusent. Chercher refuge, constamment confuse, tentatives de purge de pensées impures, en vain. S’abandonner,tout oublier. Lointain, ce regard certain observe sans fin, le monde en son sein, cherchant la suite,tournant insolite, rêverie fortuite, projection construite, enfin Capituler, s’effacer. Les voix envahissent son psyché, les vers s’évaporent. Sublimés telle la fumée au bout de sa cigarette. Il l’appelle, cherchant une réponse, un banal questionnement. Il ère, insurmontable sentiment, l’assourdissant son du silence. Il trouve ce déferlement de mots, une avalanche d’encre. Il ère encore, cet insoutenable sentiment l’assourdissant son du silence. Résolue, évasive et errante, elle sortait sans missive. Existence, pour elle, plus sombre, qu’une ombre en vue au bout du tunnel. D’un pas décidé, elle franchit la rive. Son corps sombrera, pâle, à la dérive. Lentement, Virginia s’enlise dans l’eau. Le poids de ces pierres scelle son tombeau.
6.
Pressure 05:56
In dreary cubes of faded steel and sullen stone, on leveled fields, formerly green, now washed away, where cattle gather everyday. Strinding on reluctantly through hardship, pain and malady. Push forward, lacking energy to barely live comfortably. The stairs march high yet never soar, a higher state, not for the soul. To reach new heights yet, never tell, no glass to mar this daily cell. It stands, oppressive, above all, casts shadows, long, and reaching far. It towers high above the sea of greyish thoughts and blackened dreams. Reaching deep to carry on in spite of this anthemic song of grieved and dark, sorrowful wails heard far and wide across the plains. The stairs march high yet never soar, a higher state, not for the soul. To reach new heights yet, never tell, no glass to mar this daily cell. Depressed and drained, it takes its toll, no rest, no loose nor space at all. It digs and claws within with ease, a viral, serpent-like disease. Its poison seeps into the pores, pervading deep through countless sores. It coils and slithers and constricts, yet no bite mark it need inflict. We have fallen, fallen under pressure.
7.
Amok 10:34
Betrayal, sin of the highest form, devoid of decency, honor, blind to the insolence. Transgressing without regards the sacred bonds, union of faith, Against time and tradition, against blood an kin. Retribution, vengeance, reprisal, just one step away. When the time has come, all shall be undone, there will be no one to prevent the consummation of my will. Self-isolation, secludedness for meditation afore the tragedy. Breathe in, focus, quiet the pulse. Breathe out, control, steady the flow. Pondering malefaction, callous perfidy, committed through disgrace and blatant odium. Sensory overload, smoldering inside, simmering before the boil. Breathe in, focus, quiet the pulse. Breathe out, control, steady the flow. Corrupted, convulsive, convulted, corrosive. Ensnared by rage, possessed, swollen with hate. Fulminating, justice, slitting the sentence. Amok Tristia, mentis morbum, dolorem, vindicta. End, deed is done, no more cares, thoughts are gone. Not yet dead, neither awake, in a blank state of consciousness. Not a dream. Who are you? Who are they? Who are all? Memories lost, still no nightmare, not a name, not a life, not a man.
8.
In the tower chamber, on its musty floor, through the dim-lit stained glass, she shows her glow. The only comfort to support the woe, to abide the presence of many a sentience. A crippled body, a vessel so frail, a mind teeming with countless hails. Warring, endless, struggle to fall, to others madness, a battlefield invisible to all. They keep on calling, yet ‘tis not mine. Familiar it sounds, although unknown. It’s a name I’ve used, it’s a name I know, It’s name I was given, as many more. Body and Souls I’m on my own... No you’re not! No you’re not! Leave me alone! Let us see. Let us touch. Let us feel! Begone from my thoughts, my dreams, my head. We will stand! We will stay, much to your great dismay! Is there no freedom but death? Please let me be! We want in! We want out! My mind’s for me. For us too. Not just you. Let us through! I keep thinking that it’s not real, so unreal. It’s not fair! It’s MY turn!In despair our need burns! Do they not care the way I feel? “We were all born here.” “I will take the reins, I will fly!” “Let us be as you.” “Don’t you wish you were free from this life?” “We can reach understanding.” These limbs carry me! “We all need to learn to share.” “Put your head through the noose, it is time.” “Equals in this impass.” “You can’t take MY body, it is MINE!” “The spores of hate bud away...” “Don’t you wish you were free from this life?” Need to put an end to this! “Kick the seat down NOW!” Borne into this life stranded, longing for the outside. A yearning for the unknown. Borne into this life caged in here, longing for the outside. A yearning for the unknown, a yearning to take control... In the tower chamber, upon the flooring boards, through the dim-lit stained glass, a pool of crimson glows.

about

Well of the Disquieted is a conceptualized tragedy about mental disorders. The artwork created by Travis Smith (Opeth, Katatonia, Anathema and more) captures perfectly the struggle that people afflicted with mental illness must face.

Strong off the release of their album Bereft in 2016, Hands of Despair spent most of 2016 and 2017 touring and sharing the stage with some of the genre’s most prolific acts garnering them wider exposure and expanding their growing fan base. Countless hours went into crafting the perfect sound and feel for the album’s concept which also features collaborations with many of the local scene’s mainstays including Marie-Helene Landry (Obsolete Mankind, Borborygme, ex-Despised Icon), Sébastien Croteau (Necrotic Mutation) and Vena Kava (ex-Aversion).

credits

released April 6, 2018

Band Members
Maxime Côté – Guitars
Jeff Mott – Vocals
Étienne Gallo – Drums
François-Xavier Jodoin – Bass
Alexandre Primeau – Guitars

Featuring :
Luc Lemay (Gorguts)
Marie-Helene Landry (Obsolete Mankind, Borborygme)
Sébastien Croteau (Necrotic Mutation)
Vena Kava (ex-Aversion)

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Hands Of Despair Montréal, Québec

Hands of despair is a progressive black/death metal from Montreal, Canada. We play long, dark songs.

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