Are you is or is you. The test
or is this ain't my baby? Our test.
Beginnings and lending. I will sing to you
as long as you will let me. We are in.
Born ready, no? Knuckle to knuckle.
Arcs intercepting. Is this the test?
Fractures. Is THIS the test?
Twenty nine into my heart and
for the vest,
still breathing,
screaming,
still breathing. Is this the test?
I can't-
I can't cum until your hand's around my throat.
Are you in? I am. Ready to pull you apart,
my baby. Have you broken your wrist today?
I have sticks and tape. Are you is or is you ain't
a test. Shining on the books, like a nickel on pavement.
Bend without breaking.
original works of parts
Razor Made
Passion. Simplified.
Do you know me? I know you, match-head.
Razor made and tracing fingertips along
what you've raised. I know
artificial light. I know the tree
on the hillside you alone have seen,
have gone to, have touched and pressed fingertips
between black leaves of curling bark.
I know the leaves you've held to your nose
and crushed until the green came wet and cold
and slicked the creases along
the undersides of your fingers.
Do you know me? I know you, match-head.
The signs, razor made. The might untold.
The hum that only that hill makes,
days looking after it first spoke
in bass. From twelve miles off.
The next time I go,
the sky hard,
I will dig you a hole. There is,
inside of it, a thing I would like you to have
while you walk and breath and hold your hand
up to the sun, fingers spread for shade.
Inhaling and pollen and tooth and severed,
and silent, brought up
from the same grasses.
Do you know me? I know you, match-head.
Razor made and tracing fingertips along
what you've raised. I know
artificial light. I know the tree
on the hillside you alone have seen,
have gone to, have touched and pressed fingertips
between black leaves of curling bark.
I know the leaves you've held to your nose
and crushed until the green came wet and cold
and slicked the creases along
the undersides of your fingers.
Do you know me? I know you, match-head.
The signs, razor made. The might untold.
The hum that only that hill makes,
days looking after it first spoke
in bass. From twelve miles off.
The next time I go,
the sky hard,
I will dig you a hole. There is,
inside of it, a thing I would like you to have
while you walk and breath and hold your hand
up to the sun, fingers spread for shade.
Inhaling and pollen and tooth and severed,
and silent, brought up
from the same grasses.
On Approach to a Black Body 2
The banger. Listening to the motor
slowing. Attitude adjustment one, two, and three.
Waiting for the fourth. Sleeping eyes.
Shields rising while windows open
to swallowed starlight.
Sleeping eyes. At the board,
remember the first time you conquered
your fear of the night
along the walk home years before?
Time stood still. Before the streetlights
returned and my palm stopped sweating
inside your hand. Waiting for the dogs.
The howls. The music bangs inside. Strobe blood red.
Upon arrival. It is time to wake up.
It is time to wake up.
slowing. Attitude adjustment one, two, and three.
Waiting for the fourth. Sleeping eyes.
Shields rising while windows open
to swallowed starlight.
Sleeping eyes. At the board,
remember the first time you conquered
your fear of the night
along the walk home years before?
Time stood still. Before the streetlights
returned and my palm stopped sweating
inside your hand. Waiting for the dogs.
The howls. The music bangs inside. Strobe blood red.
Upon arrival. It is time to wake up.
It is time to wake up.
Return of the Painted Dinosaur (bonus track)
Dread Not (the bandage remix code)
"I look after you,
you look after me."
If the sun could be moved
from horizon to fire pit
it would not give off the same heat
flowing from an ear's crest close to lips.
Lie down near where the river water
still ground chilled from the hills
flows and I will tell you
exactly how deep the hole goes
in the side of the hill
where space tears apart and green leaves divide
into Winter flume blanket chills
wind driven through the brick work.
Shut the fuck up. Gauge the sun
by the sliver of the moon and
trace the ecliptic to find stars, clouds, a few
satellites too. One.
"I look after you."
Take after me. About those licenses.
Get around
and that. One can double if a careful eye winks.
I had a vision the other day. I know it's easier
to hear with one ear out of the tide.
Listen regardless.
I found a shell for you. Do you like it?
May be a fossil or something close to it.
I'll guess too.
The game is not quite right
unless the fish are playing too.
The sun still casts the cloud cover
into steel. Still burns across mirrored shades.
Swallow, muscles perplexed inside your palm and
arteries doing their best.
Before we lit out, I cast a level nine hex and
watching your smile, I do believe.
"I look after you,
you look after me."
If the sun could be moved
from horizon to fire pit
it would not give off the same heat
flowing from an ear's crest close to lips.
Lie down near where the river water
still ground chilled from the hills
flows and I will tell you
exactly how deep the hole goes
in the side of the hill
where space tears apart and green leaves divide
into Winter flume blanket chills
wind driven through the brick work.
Shut the fuck up. Gauge the sun
by the sliver of the moon and
trace the ecliptic to find stars, clouds, a few
satellites too. One.
"I look after you."
Take after me. About those licenses.
Get around
and that. One can double if a careful eye winks.
I had a vision the other day. I know it's easier
to hear with one ear out of the tide.
Listen regardless.
I found a shell for you. Do you like it?
May be a fossil or something close to it.
I'll guess too.
The game is not quite right
unless the fish are playing too.
The sun still casts the cloud cover
into steel. Still burns across mirrored shades.
Swallow, muscles perplexed inside your palm and
arteries doing their best.
Before we lit out, I cast a level nine hex and
watching your smile, I do believe.
On Approach to a Black Body
Sleeping, the boards light up.
The sun bent, around the event horizon.
Stars curled paper around,
alarms hard enough to rattle jaw bones.
Every resource turned,
survival against the readings on screens
that would explode their glass,
the needles analog left behind long ago.
The flowers bought
to go next to the HUD shake 'gainst gravity.
Do you know?
What it is you do.
Space time decays
before your mouth: chew chew chew.
Engines on, head straight for the ecliptic.
Forget instrumentation.
This planet is not quite fit.
Run run run run
run run run run.
The sun bent, around the event horizon.
Stars curled paper around,
alarms hard enough to rattle jaw bones.
Every resource turned,
survival against the readings on screens
that would explode their glass,
the needles analog left behind long ago.
The flowers bought
to go next to the HUD shake 'gainst gravity.
Do you know?
What it is you do.
Space time decays
before your mouth: chew chew chew.
Engines on, head straight for the ecliptic.
Forget instrumentation.
This planet is not quite fit.
Run run run run
run run run run.
After Boosting
Mother's day.
Father's day.
After boosting having the strength to say no to volcano
trips to the edge of magma hutched blisses where everything burns and every punishment is unearned and trying to describe to the people you know how you strive to stay alive underneath their eyes when everything you say is a lie and the sky is inhabited by some over watch guy with a beard 'cause to leer is not enough, you've got to be strong enough, to spit the so called truth hurts with weird words and buzzed nerves with prayer and scare them into some kind of predeterminated werewolves. If you love enough, if you love enough. After boosting, to obey, belay that order, I still feel.
I still see what's turning the fucking wheels. I still need what y'all made unreal. I still will celebrate the considerate degenerate, what's cut off from generations, and killed off, without reason enervated. There is a reason: the season beginning again, treason called out without wings, even pigs can fly if you have the right thing to fling them through air, you can make a dumb bitch sing,
so I guess you had a catapult and a gentle
man to call a pup, so I miss you? I'll treat you like one when you act adult? So that's when I get to lease some ground in your heart? You like the idea of me, taking credit when other people see me. Please, you're garbage, and I'm only giving you the time because I have to slow down in between these lines. Was I baptized, I can't remember, why can't you? Did you entertain me to see what I would do? Forced lunches, yeah, I'll cook you something. How'd that bleach taste, mixed in with glue, and the hamburger meat,
that's what you are to me and I'm starving. Man, I wish I could fucking eat, but I'll wait. I'll wait. I'll wait. I'll fucking wait and I'll carve into my skin the date and hour and minute you pass away because you're not worth the time or even the fucking scars, I only put them on my face so I can smile tomorrow and remember
the business you are all about and what I know and 've known that's made life louder than it ever needed to be; if you want some love come up and see how I'll open your eyes and strap you to a chair and come meet every last one of my motherfucking teeth while I take to the soles of your feet alligator clips connected to my trucks god damn battery. You see the season is on it, You wanted it so own it. Kick him out of the nest to land on his neck with no damn wings. It's not a sonnet and I wish I could put a bonnet on it, but dawns upon us: All I have to do is out live your soul.
and with my bared hand
put dirt on the hole.
Father's day.
After boosting having the strength to say no to volcano
trips to the edge of magma hutched blisses where everything burns and every punishment is unearned and trying to describe to the people you know how you strive to stay alive underneath their eyes when everything you say is a lie and the sky is inhabited by some over watch guy with a beard 'cause to leer is not enough, you've got to be strong enough, to spit the so called truth hurts with weird words and buzzed nerves with prayer and scare them into some kind of predeterminated werewolves. If you love enough, if you love enough. After boosting, to obey, belay that order, I still feel.
I still see what's turning the fucking wheels. I still need what y'all made unreal. I still will celebrate the considerate degenerate, what's cut off from generations, and killed off, without reason enervated. There is a reason: the season beginning again, treason called out without wings, even pigs can fly if you have the right thing to fling them through air, you can make a dumb bitch sing,
so I guess you had a catapult and a gentle
man to call a pup, so I miss you? I'll treat you like one when you act adult? So that's when I get to lease some ground in your heart? You like the idea of me, taking credit when other people see me. Please, you're garbage, and I'm only giving you the time because I have to slow down in between these lines. Was I baptized, I can't remember, why can't you? Did you entertain me to see what I would do? Forced lunches, yeah, I'll cook you something. How'd that bleach taste, mixed in with glue, and the hamburger meat,
that's what you are to me and I'm starving. Man, I wish I could fucking eat, but I'll wait. I'll wait. I'll wait. I'll fucking wait and I'll carve into my skin the date and hour and minute you pass away because you're not worth the time or even the fucking scars, I only put them on my face so I can smile tomorrow and remember
the business you are all about and what I know and 've known that's made life louder than it ever needed to be; if you want some love come up and see how I'll open your eyes and strap you to a chair and come meet every last one of my motherfucking teeth while I take to the soles of your feet alligator clips connected to my trucks god damn battery. You see the season is on it, You wanted it so own it. Kick him out of the nest to land on his neck with no damn wings. It's not a sonnet and I wish I could put a bonnet on it, but dawns upon us: All I have to do is out live your soul.
and with my bared hand
put dirt on the hole.
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