1. |
Mid-Atlantic
02:13
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snake jazz
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2. |
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something I never was is living in my bones
and sometimes in the dark I can hear it shifting
in shapes of gray beneath my eyes
but others I find myself locked in a home
where everything is labeled with
masking tape and black magic marker
I sit silent trapped by sinister specters mocking my body
bound in the same shape as it always was
I can’t see a room not covered in self-doubt
bury me bury me
a self imposed banishment of natural light
and all I want is to gnaw at my ribs
one at a time until I’m open enough
exposed
caustic air that demonstrates doubt and reserve
over what I thought would aid me
I sequester and keep my secrets to myself
and quietly bide my time waiting
so some ghost of myself
can crawl in and find some warmth
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3. |
Mia Wartooth
03:56
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a sharp wind
the first break from a summer that lasted too long
it puts a light behind my eyes that only shows
that I’m still here
red, red swollen ‘round my ribs
too slow to move while I have the chance
too slow to move while I still have the chance
when all I want is something
that just won’t make me sick
pulling strips off of my fingers
again and again
again and again
pulling strips off of my fingers
that fall like platitudes
watching the same scenes again
with different faces
but I still can’t move I still can’t think without
inspecting it a hundred times
around in circles I can’t fill with the space
hanging in the air above my bed
but I still can’t move I still can’t think without
inspecting it a hundred-thousand times
around in circles I can’t fill with the space
hanging in the air
I’m just listening
for a time when things go completely quiet
when I can think without worrying
and I can breathe around my hands
when I can see nothing
and maybe know something about myself
internalize or demystify
shed the world or watch it wrap around your finger
feel it grip tight tight tight
right before your eyes
right before your sullen eyes
internalize or demystify
let it pass but don’t you dare touch it
don’t give it a name
don’t give it a name
don’t give it a name
don’t let it leave your sight
laying still when the trees go to sleep
I can’t see you scurry among
stray pieces of the sun
you know where it’s settled
I didn’t know it had fallen
you know where it’s settled
I didn’t fucking know it had fallen
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4. |
Dampé Mimicry
05:27
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my eyes assembling daydreams of yours
in the half-light before dawn I’m torn
between this comfortable silence I’ve built
and the night light in sharp focus behind my head
I am cotton-packed and wrapped around
your dust settling in my lungs
I don’t want to forget
well just take my memories and just form them
into something fleeting I lay back
my hands across my eyes
I know I know
well I guarantee this is how today will end
I can see the sun rise
I can hear you
I will be still
this will be written in
the patches of sunlight
that find their way in
I will be numb
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5. |
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snake jazz
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6. |
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I’ve felt change
I am floored I am the floor
and I feel the door sliding to complete the wall
and your dragging footsteps
moving a body with poor posture across my spine
but at least they’ve carried weight
I just bear it
these days I don’t think of much but I’ve realized
that maybe I’ve been acting on the wrong kind of sentimentality
but it’s hard to know for sure
so I’ll just lay here
and I ask myself the questions I did when I was four
I let my silence speak for itself
so I’ll just sit back
and move across the floor
am I convinced that everything I have
will leave or be taken away?
am I selfish enough to think
that they were mine to begin with?
I’ve felt change
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7. |
F.I.T.P.
01:27
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stuck in between sleep and a dream I can’t escape
where do I go from here?
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8. |
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nothing’s changed except for the size of my clothes
and a room facing the other side of my house
I thought I was supposed to grow?
whatever made my brain stretch is now more than dead
a soft swallow on the hard pallet
I can wait because there’s nothing else to do
I will trace handprints on my flesh
I can wait because I can’t trust myself not to
I can wait because it’s a shame not to see the end
and maybe when my teeth come loose in my fingers
I can plant them evenly beneath my headboard
where something beautiful might actually grow
nothing’s changed
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9. |
Chron-Atlantic
08:52
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diverging lines last long past
where my sight dictates depth and direction
if I could blindly reach as far as ambitions asked for
but now they’re spent and they’re solemnly pleading in unison
‘there is no home. there are no hopeful eyes. this is not for you.’
and it’s never below me like everything I’ve spoken low
‘there is no home. there are no hopeful eyes. this is not for you.’
it grows and it’s never below me like everything I’ve spoken low
my senses shift towards my pulse
my awareness that I’m on solid ground
my composition
am I worth my salt?
am I worth any of my elements?
what holds these secrets?
how long do I endure this dirge
to find an answer left kept to the stars?
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