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kiss the door shut
hold the grudge
weed the scrubby bush
scrub window scrub
brushes stay lucky
stay snug
my bandana wind
my chopsticks behind
stuck in the wide with
opening broke in
death eyes in nightclubs bright
the unhealthy question
my safe
companion whose face
my best love liar
in drama crisis
hot head wires awake
to dry darkness away
dust films
coarse lips with
in alleys of piss
yellow hammock grin
quiet cried was was ill
was coughing phlegm
barbecue sauna
the warm hug is hot dawn
the hot pasta
and spicy cough
blinds opening on
coin laundry
blowing the fluffy
wind the pillow wind percussion
stinking decrepit
shuddering
crawl up
so hopelessly
snug laughter listens
the shivering the glistening
hollow handcuffs shake off
off
and guilt hugs the mess
convulsing sour garbage
sobbing broken
god bless inhale
hopeless dialogue makes
toughest mistake
wednesday was painful
sweat painful emotions
unexpected like
what looks like some
sacrament
or bugs in melted
chocolate tread water
or wet bandages dry
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2. |
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3. |
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will listen
to still names
uneasy
why don't songs
soft metal
mental shell
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4. |
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Give the gift of love a gift.
Bite the filter off.
Seal it with a death wish.
Take it from the top.
Take the last train of thought.
Curl-up on the tracks.
You are like your dog.
You make me laugh.
New paragraph.
Last night your eyes were rolling.
I saw your eyes roll back.
You said you were in control.
Control is an illusion.
Spin the steering wheel in circles.
Emotions float
like loose cartilage.
The storms are on the ocean. The surge
is catastrophic.
I am worth my weight in empty words.
Patience is worthless.
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5. |
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Years ago, everyone knew your name.
Beware, your sagging mug may still ring bells.
Keep your head down.
Did you witness mystic hands?
Deep in the night.
You would keep your money in your shoes.
Neon lies, no loyal sun.
Birds are chirping early.
This is the final call.
You wish you were numb and rosy.
Oh no.
No, no, no.
Everyone is waving.
Put your glasses on.
Smoke clears.
Can't put your finger on the tip on your tongue.
Harbingers and hangers-on.
Smoke clears but the smell lingers
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6. |
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and twisted
in the song
on listen
to winters
hear money
walk for own
a tree moves
I'm silent
what color
temperament
hometown frown
big sigh so
scraping smile
singing wire
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7. |
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your veneer ring, your plate
water from the water can
under my sleek table
pitchy, the pitched roof
my ornamental wall
fall under you
into light
I walk a smiling dog
you were under my couch
I hold your pink hand
your granite tops, loose hinges
when your friend is my friend
you wait, you grow impatient
I am the black tooth
the bruised fruit
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8. |
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Green plastic comb.
Grease your hair back.
Don't loosen your loose track.
You would boulder on the bluffs,
overlook where waves subside,
take solemn mountain cat naps
with burrs in your socks.
You would cut the humid asphalt
after midnight
with your leather briefcase snapped.
Flashing your smile - what charisma!
Every storefront mirror was a window.
A new rumor will consume you.
Will you remember the outfit you wore
or your gold ring?
Will you mourn the reckless
hunk with red eyes who spoke slow,
like syrup pours from plastic pitchers?
Remember stocking jewelry,
costume runs and sweet martinis.
Clean sheets on this bed won’t calm you.
You saw the poison scratch,
deep in his own damp canvas enclosure:
wax and mold,
cold cream, cold sore cream,
epsom foot soak and
“Goin’ Down That Lonesome Road,”
but no soggy bundles
between flat rocks.
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9. |
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10. |
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sets your small
same tired mind
sizzling
cast your own
soap smells like
an orange
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11. |
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slumped across a greasy vinyl booth
clicking on a picture of someone
dreams are always stupid
that was the dream, this is the lesson
like open doors open doors
but only with my glasses on
habit seduces when inertia is stronger
oh but my blood curdles
I met a coward outside the party
stinking in his rumpled duster
nobody so smart as
the brass knuckles necklace he clutched
he said this is the dream, this is revenge
and I might have shared my arms-length spread
oh but the bloodrush squeezed my fingers purple
and no one watches when
when you’re walking
and you look over your shoulder
when something stirs your memory
opens ugly words
opens ugly words
I tore my ticket open
I said it wasn’t me
within the crowd, I succumbed to panic
within the giddy scene, I saw red
red eyes with wide pupils gleaming
someone said to me, what does that mean?
I said I was counting birds
I was only breathing steam
anything to keep my blood pump working
and no one watches when
when you’re walking
and you look over your shoulder
you hold your nose, surrender
your warm position
admire the cold dirt
ah, what is the word for “soft touch?”
what is the word for “soft touch?”
what word?
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12. |
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I cut the bell pepper butt into fours.
You set the timer for four on the floor.
Your generation has berries on it.
I won't blame you for what you did.
You made the most of the hand you were dealt.
I touched the sign for the Spillway Motel with my hand.
My generation is sleeping sound.
You robbed Peter to pay me back.
I saw there was dust on my hand from the sign.
You drew a face with your thumb in the dust on my car.
Your generation is a nesting doll.
You activate my bowel chakra.
You see fear as a means to an end.
I saw a shaking baby owl on the fence.
My generation is an exposed armpit.
My alarm clock has a nervous tic.
I couldn't hear your sound investment.
You never listen.
My generation is a one click away from losing everything.
You might as well marry your Christmas tree.
You might as well keep your fingers crossed.
I'll keep the faucet water running.
Your generation is a glove compartment with gloves in it.
And we love you for it!
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13. |
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lyrics by Noah Marmalefsky:
that feeling you get when you lift something that you think is full but its really empty
we called the party line
alfreds work the late shifts
pataphysical exploration
hugging the divine horsemen
crawling too close to the fire
cause that's the feeling you get when you lift something that you think is full but its really empty
some of the beer fell off the bike
we lived in the house with the collyer brothers
cause that's the feeling you get when you lift something that you think is full but its really empty
do you think its kinda funny
do you think its kinda sad
that feeling you get when you lift something that you think is full but its really empty
this furniture's pretty small to hide under,
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14. |
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15. |
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Latex gloves snap,
split open in the sunset.
Chain link fence.
Orange rust.
Make me a fireplace
on your bathroom rug.
Feed lathe-cut wood
and palette splinters.
Faces face down flat,
shoulders slouching over
stained ceramic mugs
in damp, smoky nightclubs.
H is for
hot spaghetti splashing
your picturesque, rugged jawline,
your own brave face.
How could you face what you found like that?
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released October 24, 2018
Recorded 2017-2018