1. |
Nest Egg Falling
02:48
|
|||
|
The drone of the ICU is floating down the hall.
I'm getting fat, and pale, and bald.
It's still my little shell that plays my favorite note, strips it to the bone, and leaves a shallow impression.
|
||||
2. |
Garbage Day
03:16
|
|||
|
It was patricide. You were jealous, he was callow, and now you're immortal. It was a symbol.
Such a fitting fucking end for the bitter physician -- a half-life, unhappy, with half of a family. The covers never felt this thin, but now that you're in them, your own hands are freezing to death. Just knowing it's clinical, it's cold. A body, a soul, inseparable. I started building up from the ground, and everyday, I like it less, because everyday it looks more like me.
|
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3. |
Buried Standing Up
05:57
|
|||
|
Two hundred ten tiles cover the floor, corner to corner. A few times a day, every one is accounted for. I call them by name. The nurse brings lunch, like clockwork, without saying a word, takes it away, finds a vein. I hate her. I hate her more than anything.
Sticked and swollen. Scraped along the bottom. Newborns drop. The floor is a magnet. Scaffolding turns to unraveling bandages, stripped in knots. Maternal. Amorous. Everything's cancerous. A mortician, a priest, and a florist walked into a bar... That's as far as I got.
|
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4. |
The Weight of a Body
05:32
|
|||
|
The weight of a body when your soul leaves is a hundred pounds soaking wet. I wish this lasted longer. I wished this lasted longer when I watched you live.
I can't wrap my charms around you with a hundred-thousand watts that rot me from the inside, just grit my teeth and limp, indifferent. Cold logic, it all makes sense.
No answers, no cure for cancer. All they left me with are the appendages I've severed picking up my shit. I've made my bed.
The weight of a body when your soul leaves is a hundred pounds soaking wet. I couldn't wish this shit on Hitler. Scream it: Bloody murder. My guts are soup on fire.
|
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5. |
Phantom
03:54
|
|||
6. |
||||
|
Six weeks to show my soul. The moon's all bullet holes -- a kicked, wet hornet's nest that flew up and froze to death. Underneath a hundred-million machines, I am a human being, sullen, cold, and alone. Tomorrow the sun will rise, but I won't. Everyone you know will watch their plans unfold. A thousand words, each worth their weight in gold.
I need you.
Six weeks to show my soul. The moon's all bullet holes -- a kicked, wet hornet's nest that flew up and froze to death. Underneath a hundred-million machines, I am many things -- sullen, cold, and alone. Tomorrow the sun will rise, but I won't. Everyone you know will watch their plans unfold. A thousand words, each worth their weight in gold.
I need you.
|
||||
7. |
Free Packy
02:00
|
|||
|
The pills were a bust. If the family falls apart on camera, it'll be the death of us. They'll change the sheets. They'll send a bill. They'll let you wash away.
|
||||
8. |
Bank Holiday's Eve
02:08
|
|||
9. |
||||
|
Creatures, tapping at the glass.
Sleep sound, dreamer.
Splayed out in a pinned-down ballgown cast.
Wings are paper.
See-through in breathing tubes.
God must hate you.
|
||||
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