1. |
False Prison
03:23
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Imperceptible sights bombard my soul and eyes.
What is not there, I see.
What is there, I do not see.
Patriarchal heresy among youth is bred.
Repetition: that it may be yours and you still desire it
always.
High geometry and connected triangles,
I billow and wave in dark images
connected and named to try binding freedom.
Each object a metaphor
of itself.
To break through and buzz and gleam…
Where are my comrades? No one returns my questions:
I question to stumble around my cage,
That I might find the window where
the slightest breeze & the slightest light
in my cell are born. If it took me a
lifetime, I would tear at it day by day,
sometimes more successful than others.
My attention would make each change
a victory, where others see nothing.
No one returns my questions.
Darkness, unlike light, is thick & textured,
which slows us with its destiny. Layers
of night and beauty.
Perhaps the voices I hear, or my troubled birdsight,
are waylaid shadows hinting at the light opposite them.
Partitioned, not dual, spinning on its edge.
Resolver.
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2. |
Until I Die
02:51
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Until I die and am spared to see
You can’t help me home to wallow
Wind down to resolve
And cry long for your burdens
Until I say die, your want is my look
Raped in spirit, but wanting a kind of play
Oh I carry on now, scarred in all my hopes
Your life a pool of memories flooded in a hole
Life repeats the same men
To bury sense of change
Return to the memories
With knowledge of the end
No
The panic draws
I’m severed in half
And dropped into hell
I thought I would die so no one could see
My form was so buried in hurt
Bones broke, matter removed
And I fade away
No
Ghosts tempt me
Beating gold wings attacking memory
I plead for something better
That will never come
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3. |
Ideation
03:14
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Idols of death resting easy
A last straw magnetized to me
Waiting for an excuse
Ideate, release, go
I fear keeping near that gun
Don’t want to hear those words I look for
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4. |
Me and Old
02:18
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A chance for prayer waiting to be done
In extant, in bone
As blanched ways cause public miss
My call is to clear this fallen thing
Let me and old
Through scarred time.
A spelled hand best unignored
As my Sun grants delay
To help,
To knowing home,
To ending myself.
Lightless struggling farring
In excuse to risk,
In expanse of apathy, to hating even myself.
So clean is my hide of water,
That the lowest work spies no ease
Here in my body,
Here in useless.
Let me and old,
As bodies thought broke,
Stay limping in course of home.
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5. |
Almost
02:37
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Weep-trance in bed
I lock onto the corner
Soon to disappear
Black sun unable to hide
That summer
That brought me near to
Black sorrow
You ache to see the end
You will never be granted a way
You almost
You almost
Riven-half in ill-resignèd fear
I bade abandon, running from what I could feel
That to go, or never feel love
I’ll make a choice but wonder what if I kept on.
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6. |
Grove of Laurel
04:13
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Self-harm as avoidance.
Grab the lower
Splitting away from disintegration
Loving home of indolence
Aching for newness & ultimate rest
Founded something
Pieced together from self-knowledge
Never unchanged
Never a choice
Never knowing desire
But in cold lacking I persist in regret & sick
Splitting myself between
Wanting & not
Speaking & lying
Dreaming & working
Love & disintegration
The exquisite apathy
Too fragile to see the Sun
Will disappear before possibility of unself harm
Rouses the admirer of sleep with a name for his lack
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7. |
Inverse
05:15
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Days are circular.
Mine are counter.
The day moves around me
The orb of heat
(we are blooded)
swims and weaves about me.
My world is collapsing,
I find myself steady (once and again).
Unknown is life.
My eyes…
pain is affecting
more than light
and my breath at noon
Innervate.
Birdsight:
seeing now & its depth
But soaring
and always falling.
We are drowning again in possibility.
I am paralyzed.
Time and choice and struggle
shed me.
Give me the sword
to unknot to unmesh
Countermovement—
Repetition
Too long has my breath
been gone—each day I struggle
to regain it,
but I recognize how long it’s
been gone.
Time heals and creates—
Guide me.
Vertigo returns—
am I flying, lifting,
bright, dark?
I
I will never know.
And the voice asks me again
what I do know.
Pain and pleasure.
The yes and
the no.
It’s all useless.
I drown again in possibility.
Should I be tolled
out once again,
how can I know it’s right?
I sink again.
Inverse.
In verse I travel
despised.
So I think,
but also
I laugh,
sometimes too hard.
Possibility is the great
open ally,
uncreated,
and certainly unknown.
My days leave understanding
behind, but fear is
everywhere.
Pressure and expectation will be shed as well.
Time heals and creates.
Breathe—return.
Eliminate hope
And all forethought.
Leap and land
smiling, here
laughing, there.
Being—
whatever it means.
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8. |
Sin as Doubt
03:06
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What’s your offer?
What is this gift?
What companion will keep me alone?
Sight-abandon blessèd stinging hands?
Hurt its cultic shroud atop where we don’t dare gaze?
I sacrifice my sin,
Hide out within a doubt
Another sign develops
Choked but never fucked
Still I sign my loss
Slow on the fucking cross
Arms burned and on to
Sin as doubt
What is this trauma lingering slow?
What is this doubt masked as kindly trust?
What is the world?
A planet of form pleading again for a single, objective, avoidable thought?
How am I gloried in doubt?
Pleading doubt
Trading doubt
Seeking doubt
Love: doubt
Begging doubt
Anxious doubt
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9. |
Accidental Victim
03:59
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Ah, so simple at night
A drink buried―your velvet heart
A pall staining your innocent look
Want to be buried beneath this song
Subterranean healing to mirror candle in glut
Above is where I discovered
my broken thought breaking my thought
And now I break yours
To avoid and ignore
To lose the mood
That I avoided to hurt
My sign
A cannon let shot
Often kidding―often shamed
And outside my throat, a fallen other
Find the bottom, the way to form
You’re victim now on balance
It’s apparent in all your words
Fragile is between
To be predator
But to have that look and eyes and balance
Find forgiveness
The sadness won’t win again
I pray it not take you
It comes again
But now I’m armed
And ankles
Accidental
Tribute
Time to forget
To ever forgive myself
In a bottle
That word
That look
Center flowing six
Thoughts
Better
Alone
Look
Find
Fix
Talk
Be
With
Now
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10. |
Subterranean Healing
01:46
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I don’t know if I’m a part of this world, and
I don’t know if I want to be.
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11. |
Ruin Pose
03:37
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Your sighing pose, unable to be free
Of trips and fleeing as you make to stand
Cautions fragile boundaries built in sand
Meant to be washed by the moon of guilt
Of surviving to build a coming forth into
Confidence earned but never really displayed
Intimate scene leading growth to cope
Inward rebirth toward a world elsewhere
You were there for it all
A center untold
Revealed an unhandled memory
I am lasting and bare from the threshold where
The cold came in and paths were split and might never
Return
Renew
Conserve
What is my count?
No closure
No inverse
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12. |
||||
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Unabandoned, like carried trauma,
Staking lows of sigh-led shame and unfortune.
This pity, clawed in deep,
Harmed to beg in ceasing burst.
Inlooker, leaver in sparse,
Illumine, living the fool.
Allow your city
A golden try.
Playing unpart—
Living unreal—
Being unself—
Cancer all life—
Undrawn,
The floor drops out,
Castled,
Imprisoning hope.
Negating the lock:
All along, I’m bonded
Scraping a point of light,
Negating the lock.
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