1. |
flamers
00:33
|
|||
are you filled with the holy spirit?
|
||||
2. |
rot in hell
05:02
|
|||
did no one notice that i have been...well, at all?
i've been down/out of my head. not quite my self.
or.
this is just who i am. just a lil' crazy, unhinged.
singe me 'till i'm sorry.
burned my body good. freed every hair, released from its place deep inside of skin that surrounds me.
this is who i am now: cloudy, broke 'n dirty, wearing a few masculine displays (to) disguise its curving pre-reciprocity.
|
||||
3. |
the long slow burn
07:41
|
|||
/i.
there's nothing left that i have to hold myself accountable for, so i will
_HOLD OPEN THE DOOR_LET NEW PEOPLE IN_LET THEM TAKE ALL THAT THEY CAN_LET YOU UNLEASH ALL YOUR DEMONS_LET YOU UNLEASH ALL YOUR HELLHOUNDS_GOBBLE AT EVERY LAST VIPER_i will protect you from them now
because i believe there is something worthwhile in you.
/ii.
release from captors.
get out of dodge.
i ran so fast from you, i did not know where i was.
now there's nothing except darkness,
this black ring reeks out silence.
i can't focus. i can't feel. i cannot cry. this can't be real.
i thought the pills make you better, but when you're off them you're a nuisance to yourself.
i thought the therapy would work out, but now i'm off and i'm a danger to myself.
/iii.
i don't know what to do (or) what to say.
i don't know who i am (or) who i will be next.
it's almost as if i'm living in a schism where nothing makes sense.
no, not everything acts like a prism of your confidence.
you
don't
get
to choose how i feel
you
don't
determine what is real.
if i'm
fucking
angry
then you'll let me have my voice.
don't rip my throat out
it's
your
favorite choice.
i would have killed you so long ago if i had knew what you would do to me.
but now, i'm a shell, and you're a shell that's barely breathing.
in time i'll see you with all the heathens in hell.
i wanna burn.
we will burn.
|
||||
4. |
getting rid of evidence
03:24
|
|||
you are a fire that's spreading through the land
one day i will burn you out.
the smoldering ashes can peter to dust and
i'll put you up on my face in grey-ash.
mark'd and charcoal'd and stain'd like glass.
open your eyes and lick them against
the flames that consecrate your system.
there is not much beneath the inbetweens
your invalid body precipitates upon a ragdoll.
seams start to break.
pieces fall as the earth quakes.
it cannot rest until you're dead,
put an ice pick right into your head.
take the pellet gun that dad left on top
of the cupboard and take those caps (safety off).
you can bust out of your tiny grown skull.
it is soft.
it is malleable.
when the brain splatters, the coyotes will eat it up.
i would be more useful in a trough.
i'ff feed the pigs, i'll feed the fascists, i'll feed the faggots.
i'll feed your mom, i'll feed you.
my sense of self begins to [fade], becoming one along great plains, this frontier is bloody, shellshocked, and shaped by god. his hand is red-beaten, bloody and ready to cause upon a violence like you never seen.
|
||||
5. |
u6gtfmn7r
00:46
|
|||
4rjtdo9ujhg
|
from now to: hallelujah! Vermont
processing in the moment. often error ridden. often upsetting. often the most honest i feel.
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