1. |
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My mother used to revelate
The morals of Giles Corey:
Suffer for your loved ones
Fuck the pilgrims, fuck the state
And I have tried
To abide by that
And I succeed about
As well as you'd expect
But what in the world am I
Supposed to learn
From all of my friends and I
Getting pressed to death?
More weight!
More weight!
More weight!
Woke up last night
I was bleeding down one leg
Three bug bites
Runnin up the other
Looking for vampires
In the corners of my bed
I got a message
from my friend-
They didn't get the job again
Their search already
three months in
Timestamped at 3 a.m.
More weight!
More weight!
More weight!
Simon Sponberg
Showed us a movie
Of a trout that was
swimming upstream
He showed us the movie
Six times before
He told us the fish
Was dead
Pulled it out of the freezer
Put it straight into the water
Oh it moved like a dancer
It still moved like a dancer
The only thing
That pain has to teach us
is how to take a little more pain
The only thing
That death has to teach us
is silence, its shape and its name
The only thing
That weight has to teach us
Is how to ask for more fucking weight
More weight!
More weight!
More weight!
More weight!
More weight!
More weight!
More weight!
|
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2. |
Sophie's Hair
05:46
|
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Flowers belong in Sophie's hair
I have found that they belong there
She is in love and I am not
Too many love songs end the same
They're easy answers in a golden book
But it's the questions that sustain me
So I'll steal roses from the yard for her
Cause flowers belong in Sophie's hair
Every day I make the same mistake
Stretch the light across your chest
And you breathe in and I'm in love again
And you breathe out and I'm a mess
Cause I'd steal stars down from that sky for spite
Seal them in like glitter in a jar
Hang the moon up on a silver hook to watch you,
See just how luminous you are
She's gonna come down one day
And be a great blue heron
I'm gonna come down one day
And be a great big nothin
|
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3. |
Field Sketch
03:14
|
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The light is everywhere
but no one understands it
brings all these voices in my head
they don’t know anything
And you are everywhere
and I don’t understand it
i just keep looking at the glass
but there is no one in my hands
So unexpectedly,
I am the ghost that lives downstairs
and I am dirtying the pans
and taking out the trash
And I see everything
where your watch has been all week
where the centipedes sleep;
atlas of broken things
Sometimes you call to me
and I jump at my own name
I am surprised just to be seen -
it gets so easy being no one
But you see everything
the way I sit, and wait, and grieve
and I like the way you call me
when there’s no one there to see
Once or twice a week
I make my way down to the shore
to draw a little singing bird
that I still haven’t found the name for
|
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4. |
Amanda Tries On Shoes
03:59
|
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a graveyard for the clasps of your pants
and rare earth metals that wore out in the frames of dead cell phones
the terabytes of texts you sent that meant everything
but won't be remembered by anyone
i'm pretty sure the afterlife is just a sleepover with everything you've ever killed or made feel worse than you had to. that's why you're there with the flies and the spiders.
i'm gonna be less indecisive
maybe
i'm gonna catch all of my enemies
and release
i'm gonna commit all the things i get to memory
and try to convince myself it's better off than nothing
a moment of silence for all the fucking talking
you fuckers can't ever stop making.
haven't you been in a room and done nothing?
don't you know that spotlight's also worth ceding?
i'm pretty sure the afterlife is just a sleepover with everything you've ever killed.
my fucked-up friends, who ripped up plants from the earth, have eternal gardens.
i'm gonna be less indecisive
maybe
i'm gonna catch all of my enemies
and release
i'm gonna commit all the things i get to memory
and try to convince myself its better off than nothing
i'm gonna be less indecisive
maybe
i'm gonna catch all of my enemies
and release
them into a world where they can be wholly free
to be destroyed by the angry and starving and clumsy
tried two dozen shoes and none fit
you got to walk away before you make yourself sick
the day was gorgeous and stupid
so one ever bothered to catalog it
tried two dozen shoes and none fit
you got to walk away before you make yourself sick
the day was gorgeous and stupid
so one ever bothered to catalog it
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Cats On Film Massachusetts
Lonesome Joan + Anxiety Superstar = sick tunes
Banner photo by McKinley Theobald
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