|
1. |
|
|
|
|
To stop my sinking heart sinking too far, I've laid my muscles still while 'they' keep my blood thin. I’ve since hoped that what you say to me would drown every complaint that keeps repeating, day and night, but I’m well aware already so I try to keep them quiet. Oh, medicine, cure my guilt again. Condition me and help prevent, control and insure against a nightcap and any feelings of entitlement I have. My liver is all keeping me up, and I’ve looked after it for so long. If I keep this up, will you keep me up? Stay strong, regenerate, be fine. It looks like we’re stuck like this for life.
|
|
2. |
|
|
|
|
I’d be the first to put my hands up that there’s one too many things that I want, and if that burns bridges to you then I’ll have to find another route. I hope you understand that I need your trust as much as you need the truth. I have known from a very young age that the best and worst of us end up the same. I never told myself fairy tales even if I’ve led myself astray before. I’m well aware of the snakes in the grass and I am well aware of the knives pointed at my back. It’s out of love I tried to keep you safe and explain that these futures, these thoughts, are your past mistakes. I was a wreck but I covered it up; you were caught between moments and that wasn’t enough. As a result our characters are amalgamations of collections and incomplete parts. I tried to marry the truth with your hopes, to keep your burdens halved with every dawn approached. I know I wasn’t ever close to perfect, but I never let you go. Lover, your heart is not my home. It’s just a habitat and habitats are known to become inhospitable.
|
|
3. |
|
|
|
|
My head is a mess, and any attempts to rearrange have me fret and further complicate, crawl down the throats of weaker things, around heartstrings and struggle to escape. Neither fault nor ill fortune quite sate my need to explain why of all the patience’s I’ve known none have sat with each and every of my ghosts. It’s bigger than this, I’m confronted with infinite cycles I’m helpless against and I wish it would end. I recovered; I befriended my future and ex lovers. I rebuilt everything that I’d burned. It takes nothing less than years to overcome and lay to rest these fears, I fear are returning once again. I can see the signs. Your eyelashes give you away, and though we’re meant to be in love we lie uncomfortably awake. I can tell you aren’t content as they drag like forks across my chest. I can’t deny the rains that follow me. I can’t refuse the floods that they bring. These changes rush over you like waves and I can only see your face for one split second before it’s lost again. The old pride are fractured and they’re falling apart, and though they coalesce at times they never crystallize in full. I’m aging and I’m still no further from what the old prides have always helped me rise above. Though we compete with our penitence and how visible it is; we both know that life livers get bored of these same story lines, that repeat like old fashioned nursery rhymes falling from a million mothers’ lips every night, so sin sinners you’re in neither our hearts or our minds.
|
|
4. |
|
|
|
|
If the wolves don’t whistle are you dead? When the lambs stop looking you get scared. Are you scared? If it’s the eyes that you want, when they drop to the floor like the death blankets of Autumn does every surplus tissue wonder off, leaving your thoughts? I still remember how it felt being part of every rhythm that you kept. The air that would rush into these lungs was laced with all my favourite poisons, and every alveoli’s caressed like a thousand lips at the nape of my neck. Every now and then the breeze brings your name like an anchor to my feet. Despite what you’ve done, I pray you come to no harm, love. I couldn’t decide which elements we were most alike, I took up every bond that was free, and I was content but not complete. You are still in each and every rhythm that I keep.
|
|
5. |
|
|
|
|
As we step a day closer to death, closer to pay cheques and this year’s dead leaves blend into next’s. As these fashions grow, collect to die as we get old, I hope that we’ll stay close. I am the push and pull of blood, I am the lungs that you fill up and though you tear me out of futures you have a fondness for our past. The fair-weather culture that’s pulled you in is nothing new but it never is, and despite every honest chance you chose the ghosts of what you had. Some souls cannot be saved. Some lovers make mistakes that they will not admit and choose untruths to line the paths they’ve picked. What a stubborn way to live, what a selfish reason to give, and now our conversations end like awkward friends’ and don’t begin like we are or ever were interested in each other at all. At times I think more warmth than this has risen from the open ribs of corpses in crypts. And it’s crushing. Our love is not mysterious, a blessing or a gift; it is a set series of chemicals that dilute our sound judgements. When people change they leave weights that stress our conscience and our brains, which subsequently secrete more chemicals that inhibit common sense. And all the reasoning I need is a burden as it is without the constant threat of pressure that overwhelms my chest. This ill acquaintance that your heart has with your head and how they approach any inconsistency in policy is making it hard to cope. Our love was not content on being cruel to ripened chests and substituting common sense with other company in bed. But it knew its worth, and of its worth I was convinced when it pulled words from my choked throat that I have rarely said and haven’t since. And though we fell apart in stages, we fragmented at different rates and the most painless opportunities to separate would go to waste. You were the fruit of every prayer, mistake and lecture from this world but I left you in the sun for far too long and let you spoil.
|
|
6. |
|
|
|
|
May is the month for old friends and flames, going on revenge dates, on days you know will throw open the doors you want to close. I will carry to the day, I will redeem all my mistakes, I’ll kill each and every threat and I will carry you back to bed. My baby, my band, my brothers; what happened?
|
released August 6, 2011
