1. |
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2. |
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3. |
Covered with Flies
09:45
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We stand arguing in torrential rain
And I'm okay with that
Knowing that these tears
Could most likely just be from this weather
I've been called a loser
Just sort of stagnant in life
It all ended with a slap to the face
and a get-your-shit-together
Fair enough, fair enough
Now I'm left standing within this storm alone
You know, just the usual
and I can't help but wonder
How things would have been if I actually tried
Tried holding these friendships together
Mending these issues instead of calling it quits
But now I'm a lonewolf
These emotions have gradually diminished
and I think I like the suffering
This state of isolation...
Atrophied, but I think it's still there
Albeit seemingly shrinking
Might as well discard this heart
like a cheap carnival prize
Ephemeral like spadefoot toads
Now rotten and covered with flies.
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4. |
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5. |
Dissected Butterflies
09:00
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6. |
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My mind builds empires behind my back, when my thoughts sleep, the dream constructs walls of marble slate that stretch upwards into the clouds. The city of memory is a violent one, continuing to grow, multiply, and litter the streets with faded photographs. Skyscrapers tickle the sense and reassure me that yesterday has been completed. There are no traffic lights in this town, no stopping or pausing or going, it’s all just as it should be. Who will police the negative ideas? Who will step up and call my name? Who will tell me this great civilization located between my ears will one day be torn apart? I can’t remember the names of all the streets I have traveled, but it doesn’t matter when all I want to do is ride until the wheels fall off. Take a look around you. Look at all those dead smiles painted on those faces. I can see it in their eyes, an unwritten declaration for sleep. Lifeless like love waiting to be born. Premeditated like fake laughter. I don’t think there’s enough time in the world to bury all of you and I know there isn’t enough strength, but I still keep my heart reserved. One too many bedrooms decorated like caskets but no place to rest, no song to sing, no ears to listen. My eulogy is my still beating heart and it is also my testimony. Notice there are no mirrors in this house and there are no coat hangers. I don’t plan to stay very long and I sure as hell don’t wish to see my reflection as I’m leaving. This town is a giant casket full of dying dreams. Those aren’t just nails at my feet, those are desires. There’s more than a hammer in my hand and there’s more than a protest in my heart. So take a deep breath, kid, this might be our last memory.
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