1. |
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and i know that my life is forever changed
and i hope that her death was not in vain
and i cried out for god's irreversible claim
and i prayed to live every day without pain
and how i wish my mind could be
erased
but still her voice calls me from beyond the
grave
you mourn me restlessly, trapped me inside your
gaze
you locked me up in your heart, you made me your
slave
please don't tell me that i'm losing my
mind
why did you leave me? why was i left
behind?
if you loved me so much then why don't you
cry
if you want me back so badly then why don't you
try
you know that i can never return
and you know that death cannot reverse
and no matter how much you hope and yearn
i am dead. i am dead. i am dead. i am gone.
i hope that you will listen close to
me
i hope that you will not be afraid to
sleep
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2. |
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I. The Problem
yes
this is
a cry
for help
yes
this is
my pain
yes
i know
that you
cannot
help
me
yes
i wish
you
could
no
i am not
seeking
any form
of attention
if i were
i would be
a lot less
secretive
and a lot
less private
and attempt
very hard
to show off
my death
yes
sometimes
i believe
i am god
and i can
take a life
but i can’t
yes
sometimes
i believe
in god
and that he
is somewhere
laughing
while i suffer
i once claimed
i would devote my life
to god
and to his son
and the holy mother
but now
i can’t devote my life to living
sometimes
i envy
those who
can put
trust in him
and rely on him
and believe in him
even when the times are good
i tell you
the things
i think
and do
and write
and you don’t
know what
to say
and that’s alright
but don’t
be ignorant
about it
don’t yell at me
don’t chastise me
don’t chide me
don’t yell at yourself
don’t chastise yourself
don’t chide yourself
this is just as much your fault
as mine
you can help
if you want
this is not in my power
this is your problem to fix
please?
II. The Offer
and here
i offer you
my sacrament
and here
i offer you
my soul
in raw
and pure
and unadulterated
form
and here
in this
shithole
of a confessional
i offer you
my very
being
i offered you
these things
and you
denied them
without thinking
you said
you had
no way to give
the things
that i
would need
i didn’t
ask
too much
of you
besides
your entire
existence
it seems like
a fair trade
your soul
for mine
(though
i presume
mine may not
be as pure
as yours)
i mean
that’s the
only
rational explanation
that i can think of
anyway
it just isn’t
the right
sort of
deal
that you’re looking for
and i get that
i appreciate that
but for my own sake
fuck you
but when i think about it
your mind is stained
with impurities
as much as mine
though perhaps not physically
your mental state is the same
you dream
of the same
terrible
hushed
dreams
as i do
and think
of the same
demeaning acts
as well
but perhaps
the best way
to act on them
would be
together
not to be
strange
at all
but i
just want
to save you
from the rest
III. The Metaphor
and so i see
you have trouble
reading into
some of my
more
complex
metaphors.
i’ve decided
to make this one
simple
and easy to understand
just
for
you.
you see
if you equate
all of the hatred
and anger
and apathy
and sadness
and guilt
to a laser
beam
and set it up
shining
in a single
red dot
on the wall
(in which case,
the wall is my brain)
then, you take a prism
a million-sided prism
and place it
right in front of the laser beam
then
screw it
into the table
the laser
will shine
everywhere
and cover the room
with specks
and dots
and lines
and shapes
from the refractions
of millions of shards
of glass
this prism is
depression
and there is nothing
anyone can do
to move it
and i certainly
don’t have the power
to move it
and every once in a while
i like to screw it in
a little bit tighter
until the laser
blinds me
and the pain
imbibes me
and i drown myself
in sound and darkness
until i collapse
beneath the weight
of the light
and bask in the
complete and utter
sleep
and dream
complete
utter
nothing.
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3. |
hardcore
00:55
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4. |
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5. |
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6. |
scully have i loved
01:56
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strong and secure
you try to win the war
but what are you fighting for?
starving for light
you're crying through the night
barren now from life
you looked away from death
with never ending breath
beneath your shattered breast
and when push comes to shove
with headlights from above
scully have I loved
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7. |
I. The Problem (redo)
04:40
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8. |
II. The Offer (redo)
05:04
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9. |
IV. The Irony (redo)
04:14
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10. |
cactus emoji
02:24
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don't dip your fingers in the future, love, just
let the waves curl around your ankles
let the sea be your fountain of youth and
smooth the tears through your cuts and wrinkles
we don’t see each other much
i want you to know that i'm selfish, baby but
i promise that i will learn to share you
with all your guys and your girls and your lovers i
don't wanna be the one to pull my hair out
don't worry
you and me won't
you’re not god, you’re not jesus, nor a virgin but
i think judas is your disciple
you’re the sun, you’re the sea, you are garbage but
i believe that you can be recycled
come visit vegas for a week of debauchery
songs and high fives and weird sex
you and me have got a long way to go but
you know that we are both passive dreamers
you've got your sights on the west coast baby but
the Atlantic is so much greener
why did you tell to come in the first place
i am falling in love too hard
so tonight i am getting fucked up yeah
i'm gonna smoke the rest of my weed and
lie around singing royals and ribs and
pretend like we were meant to be yeah
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11. |
don't worry (you and me)
05:18
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you are an ugly ending to my life
i am loved
The first time you talked to me, I thought you were a boy. I still could have loved you, but I was disappointed because gay marriage still wasn't legal in my state.
It is now, but it doesn't matter because I feel at home in a dress.
My dad would never understand if I brought home a boy and told him that I wanted to be his bride.
Why is my first thought upon meeting someone always their spousal and breeding potential?
You are so much more than that, but I didn't know at the time. I didn't even know your name.
Our names don't fit well together. They're too close together in the alphabet. I wish I could rearrange it.
I want you to change your name because I want you to be happy. I want you to change my name because I never liked mine anyway.
I don't want a name because I don't want the government to watch me.
I want to go off the radar with you and increase the population of the smallest town I've ever loved by negative two.
I could fill out the census with you in six years because I know your name now. Your name is Lyam, or Lyndsey, or Lynsey, or Andrew. Or Lillith.
But why should I care? I don't have a name either.
I was disappointed to find out that the inventor of the Venn diagram was in fact English, and not Norwegian.
I want to travel the world with you.
I want to see what the mountain air tastes like when you exhale it down my throat
in Iceland and Denmark and the Canada.
I don't know the geography of those places very well,
but I am an expert in the topography of your chest.
I razed the fields of soy and grain
and let your harvest go to the locusts
even though a famine had left me barren.
I heard you can cook a slab of salmon in the dishwasher, but you use yours as a drying rack so you can keep your hands dry.
You don't like seafood anyway.
Then why do you so intently eat my flesh?
Once I went fishing in a lake
where the fish were bred to be caught.
I watched the attendant slice one open
while it was still alive.
I held its heart in my hand
about the size of my thumbnail
and poked it with a curious finger.
It beat a few times
and I felt it writhe for blood
but could only gasp for air.
I never thought I would feel such terror and intrigue again
until I held yours in my hand
and choked you lifeless
but not hard enough.
(the rest is improv.)
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there will be fish Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
an adult with a computer and a few musical instruments.
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