lyrics i wrote in my head at work…
drum and bass/minimalist guitar and synth work outlining cheater chords and this…
before the highs
but after lows
between your thighs
your intentions are exposed
you taste like sugar
in the grips of death throes
i’d slit your throat
if i could say no
i’d slit your throat
if you would let go
between your teeth
where my blood flows
before the highs
and after lows
i tasted sugar
in the grips of death throes
…. it still needs work, entire song to be put together and recorded sometime in the next couple months. i never made sexy music before so here’s my first fucked up attempt.
this song has gotten me through some shit. the bends still sucks though.
one year ago, this is what i was doing with myself. the music’s not that great but regardless hearing colors definitely helped give me some direction, and resuscitated something that lay dormant for far too long. and no offense to anyone involved, but i’m glad it’s over.
thoughts are like seeds that grow in your mind until they become so enormous that they intersect with the universe on a three dimensional plane from the depth of your heart to the subconscious that permeates every space from within the endless expanse of your mind. when i was first exposed to the world, cold, bloody, terrified, physically severed from all that had sustained me, a seed was planted in between tectonic plates shifting over the surface of a new world formulating itself, exploding out in every direction that cannot be quantified through length, width, and height, nor adequately measured with time. entire epochs have passed. and this lonely place, maybe compressed within a single human skull, but quite possibly just speaking through the mandibles attached to it, has seen much. when i was a teenager we walked side by side across a vacant baseball field and you told me “it’s a nice day.” every yellow flower, every rose in every garden, every violet, every shade of green, every last breath of fresh air was scorched by atomic fire, and ash was the snow that blanketed the ground. twisted metal and rubble reached for the sun resting on a horizon that set the sky awash in a pale orange shade. upon witnessing these mammoth figures in the distance the concept of beauty you articulated was given definition and burned brilliantly, shimmering off of a crooked grin on my lips, departing angelically from the surface of my brain into the divide. i imagine beauty entered that realm much the way you left the one where you held me for the first time. and it has me wondering if the something i desperately roam in search of, that last shred of you, that seed you planted from the very beginning incinerated in the onslaught of armageddon or has simply seen the sun as a sapling for the very first time
i need more coffee and i’ll finish this…
thoughts are like seeds that grow in your mind until they become so enormous that they intersect with the universe on a three dimensional plane from the depth of your heart to the subconscious that permeates every space from within the endless expanse of your mind. when i was first exposed to the world, cold, bloody, terrified, physically severed from all that had sustained me, a seed was planted in between tectonic plates shifting over the surface of a new world formulating itself, exploding out in every direction that cannot be quantified through length, width, and height, nor adequately measured with time. entire epochs have passed. and this lonely place, maybe compressed within a single human skull, but quite possibly just speaking through the mandibles attached to it, has seen much.
and this is what all the pain i’ve felt this week has become.
two ex lovers said goodbye to each other for the last time tonight. as the son of both, i heard a testimony of one on a plateau that rested somewhere in between the shallow mountaintops of sobs, and gentle weeping. “when your father told me he was having a bad day i would take the train down to his office in center city with a rose, and when i showed up with your brother one day, said it was one of the best things that uh, that uh, happened to him, in his, uh his whole life.” as she gentled peeled his blankets from the edge of the bed frame to reveal a crimson red rose at his side. i got off my chair, annoyed at what i thought of as an embellishment of a lie. not out of malice but a gesture made with veiled intentions, ulterior motives, to sneak something by sensitive and prying eyes. i felt relief suddenly, as if i was swatting at a mosquito buzzing around my neck, and after swatting at it i found it crushed, innards splattered across my hand over a twisted and barely recognizable exoskeleton. legs twitching from misfiring nerve endings. not a perfect, but a good metaphor for how i wanted everything this woman believed in, every thing she ever loved in anyone or anything stomped on and left in shards at her feet. but the fact that nobody would be able to recognize, and nobody gave a fuck about anything this woman was actually doing in her own damaged mind was good enough for me at that moment in time. it almost reminded me of the pulverized mosquito drifting through my wandering trains of thought following tracks laid in circles somewhere along the back burner of my brain. i looked outside the window in the hospital room we were in. she said with a nagging hand laid on my shoulder, “i always loved the city in the snow.” there was a tangled dilapidated ruin of rusted metal before me, ventilation ducts interwoven through rooftops, arteries of a golden heart in this metropolis pumping out poverty, and all the riches that came with it in all directions around me. in another hour her son, my brother, and her daughter, my sister arrived. in another eight hours i was on my way home. it was nine hours since he would never bear witness to the deliverance of the rose, my brother, and expressions of love, pride and goodbyes. within nine hours of tear drops gently soaked up in a hospital gown enveloping a body’s slow and agonizing demise, it snowed in the city that night. i soldered the wires back together to breath life into my dying distortion pedal and thought about the layers to how i found music that was constantly unexpectedly changing with a certain forceful push into the unknown was always so appealing. i found clairvoyance teetering on the edge of delusion as a result of optimism. i felt optimism as both cause and affect as the parallels formulated themselves in my mind.