1. |
Sundial
03:29
|
|||
|
Look at me burnt by the sun,
I laugh it off,
and glance at the clock
My gaze is interrupted by my shadow.
What is this spell?
Will it wear off?
My silhouette cast on woodgrain panels
serves to remind me of my time,
yet I choose to sit Idly by,
and cry,
with a star
shining on
me
|
||||
2. |
Emeralds
04:10
|
|||
|
Oh, I want emeralds,
I want your hair in my hands,
I want reigns on the world so I can begin to pull it behind me,
to assume the role of some deity,
My hand will shine, but I don't want you to see it,
Your hand in mine is necessary to
shield my eyes from blinding passersby so
you can live where you can see,
where you coexist with me,
and all of these soon-to-be corpses.
They were in my way.
They are in my couch now.
Be careful where you sit down (sit down on the deepest couch).
Oh, they say emeralds
To find myself I broke my jaw,
so now I can't speak,
but I can swallow the world.
|
||||
3. |
Cloud Coffee
03:45
|
|||
|
Coffee
|
||||
4. |
Chlorophyll
05:14
|
|||
|
Oh, we grow when we are green
a glowing garden growing in each other's
great limbs, or grape vines,
dangling, strangling,
suffocate me so you can breathe,
Oh, Chlorophyll in me,
green as the emerald daggers that we lead
into each other's solar dreams (emerald daggers thrust deep)
when we mean (Oh, when we mean)
when we mean to swallow our tongues (to swallow our tongues)
Oh, the ones on which we feast (Oh, the ones on which we feast)
We grow, and we grow apart
We grow
We grow, and we grow apart
|
||||
5. |
||||
|
Why won't you wave when I'm flailing about?
(Why would I y0ss it at that sorry d00bah?)
My frustration anticipated infrared
(I'd make a fool out of myself)
I hate waving to my 'maginations of a friend out of hands
What might my hand must have to flip my brain off anyway?
My tattered hide exposed
My existence exfoliated
until pestilent extermination
life is a tournament: single elimination
but my own hand
slipping from a gated precipice
remains an animated presence
My hand’s present not taken
not reciprocated
just left there
out of my right mind
hushed by your side loudly
my need to stay sound silences my screaming
Where are the emeralds in my eyes?
It’s winter
I can’t photosynthesize
Viscous Black, beneath what lacks,
fellow fingers tactile and tough,
a hand so roughly blown out of glass remains alone
the onyx syrup of trust, too hot to touch
my silhouette erects with shadowed lust
|
||||
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