1. |
l/r
01:51
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the vinegar smell of my dog's face and the click of unplugged electric guitars keep me awake.
everything is abuzz.
like bugs, invisible ones, across my palms,
burrowing under your skin.
not to make it awkward,
but you're dying.
and i don't mind if we say it outloud.
it'll be easier the second time.
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2. |
your mother worries.
02:46
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your family didn't know so you weren't cast aside, exactly,
but i can understand your apprehension
about the tension.
each time i leave the house i try so hard to breathe
and everyone who looks i feel their hands on me.
don't pay attention.
so he punched me and i savoured the taste.
i could hear her scream, my ears burned like fire.
we might die and be trapped in these bodies tonight
burning through our short lives.
so keep quiet at my funeral.
just close the lid.
pretend i never was.
cause your mother worries.
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3. |
||||
technically every hand can be beaten.
so i can see how that must be satisfying.
everything laid out on your screen.
cards falling into suits so effortlessly and perfectly on the
calming, institutional green.
tidy and clean.
so i'll slide the suits under your door.
red and black and all out of order.
diamond cups to hold spaded hearts.
real hands using fingers to touch
these parts out on order
we're all out of order.
you don't have to open up.
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4. |
every time
03:17
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this is one of my favourite songs.
|
mountain wasp Saint Hyacinthe, Québec
Mountain wasp is chasing the taste and measuring it in skulls.
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