1. |
tidal (lofi version)
05:49
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standing outside i am waiting
only for a few quick flashes
fleeting normalcy, a gasp upon the breeze
the beating heart of sunlight cradles
the sway of leaves, divorced from branches
waves of green, crashing into spring
seething light, passing through windows
painted in stenciled dust storms
i close the blinds, to keep the waves outside
(with sharpened teeth, i gnaw into the earth)
the alarm goes off, 9:30 in the morning
there's the sun again, the crashing of wind breaks
the silent gnaw, the moment before i realize this is not a dream
my vision seems hazy, i'm cracking bones and reaching for
my phone again, to check the news again to read the headlines
"Just stay indoors and keep to yourself; you can flatten the curve
by not seeing your friends."
and my family is a memory, highlighted by
a faint embrace, stubble on my face
as my father begins to tell me, "Everything will be okay."
but I still stay away
i'm staring in the mirror, washing my hands
singing "Happy Birthday" again, the one by the Ramones
and I know that she hates it, so I just sing to myself
the TV in the background, we're watching Hell's Kitchen
another ritual to keep us feeling normal
but I can't help from thinking, of my neighbors
coughing in the breeze
it's another sad reminder of this changing tide, this violent wave
"I don't want to die," i whisper to myself
a selfish heart emerging, but i bury it in the yard
my partner is sitting in the recliner my parents gave me
when i was losing myself, three years ago
she's keeping me in stitches, rolling on the floor
a perfect kind of breeze
and she's reading Joan Didion, "The Year of Magical Thinking"
but she puts it down when i'm around
she looks at me and tells me it's difficult to describe
the mourning from page to page
and it feels self-referential, too on the nose to say
but when i read the screens, about vaccines and treatments
the rising cost of sickness, the crushing weight of disease
here's to magical thinking
+++++++++++++
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2. |
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"I see it written on the walls
in this house that was my home
and I look at you, from across the room
and I don't know that face anymore
The cracks and lines and beard and hair
I could carve those features in stone
From memory, infinitely
But now there's a different set of eyes
A liar's mouth, or something bitter
Oh my my sweet boy
I used to be your Lungs
But now I'm cleansing fire
The smoke that weighs you down.
You wanted this.
I used to know you
How you would react to my voice.
And I would feel your warmth, in the bed at night
as the dogs entombed our feet
I saw you through your darkest nights
Picked you up from police stations at 3 A.M.
Funny how it seems that these memories feel more like dreams
Oh my my sweet boy
I used to be your Lungs
But now I'm cleansing fire
The smoke that weighs you down.
You wanted this."
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Rabbit Snare Tucson, Arizona
Riding waves of crushing distortion, gentle drone, and analog tape.
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