1. |
plain
02:50
|
|||
Overheard an echo of something
in the back of my head
staring at the mouth of a person
across the table from me.
I don’t know what she said.
And honestly I couldn’t care less.
I was just there sitting and waiting
to walk the walk again.
|
||||
2. |
sometimes
02:55
|
|||
The more surreal the day is,
the harder it’s to notice.
The mirror shows your photo,
the same one everyday.
And the narrow paths turn quickly
but from behind your glasses
they’re headed to the point B
in the most efficient way.
The inside life gets boring,
you’re saved by arms of outdoors.
The bottom of your coffee
shows all that you can’t see.
And who will tell of sinking
of ships inside the bottle
you spilled onto your carpet
before you fell asleep?
Sometimes it’s OK,
sometimes a bad take,
sometimes you’re pissing on a wrong grave.
Sometimes it goes well,
it’s hard to complain,
sometimes you’re pissing on a wrong grave.
|
||||
3. |
june
05:00
|
|||
Something’s changed
in the colour scheme of surroundings.
It rains again
and the drawings on the glass
stand in contrast to blood from my bitten lips,
the second movement of evening apocalypse
is overplayed
and undeserving of attention.
The drony sound
being produced by the ugly faces
alters the flow
of the atoms in the air.
It amplifies noises of cracking joints
but my inner compass is still,
it points in your direction
and the moderate mess on your floor.
When the drops
hit the roofs
the water streams bear all the proof
of the things
that go down
between the walls of our towns.
The glassy eyes
of the person staring at my face
are blowing holes
in the comfort of my night.
And the windows are stained with the lights from the street,
trying to be hard for the night to defeat them all.
But it’s lost before it’s begun.
|
||||
4. |
lexaurin
01:47
|
|||
Letting it go
Ending on draws
Xylophone plays
Appalling thoughts
United walls
Rohypnol trips
Inside my head
Nobody lives
Living in threes
Ever so odd
Xenia bleeds
Awaiting tod
Under my skin
Rots someones corpse
Instead of days
Nights end the course
People value existence too much.
|
||||
5. |
monday
01:32
|
|||
Thought out
long list
goes un-
noticed.
Grey days,
grey nights,
landscapes,
stage fright.
Stones but
matress
on the
surface.
Teardrops,
tongue bites,
down the
drain pipes.
Monday,
mundane.
|
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