two songs from last year, new and improved!

Lead to Roam

Floating faces fading every chance I get.

Social graces shielding everyone I met.

Here it's colder. I'll get older, too, I bet (/guess?).



New apartment, new excuse to make a mess.

Same old garments, slightly different way to dress.

And every road I take only leads me to roam

And I wonder, when will it start to feel like

cosmic comment/gilded frames for tired art

mental vomit/common interests, private parts

once a comet, now a chamber in someone else's heart

And I wonder:

• when the revolution will become routine; and
• if the institution is stealing my steam; and
• if the confusion eventually means more than just elegant elocution and survival machines.

Am I already choosing the suicide scream as the only solution to these thunderous themes?

the violent illusion/the desperate dream/the constant delusion/whatever it seems

The proud puppet plays on the shadowy screen.

With this hemlock infusion, I'll sleep so serene. But

it's already useless and

I just turned nineteen and

everything is as it's always been.

the bursting grey space/the endless ravine

onomatopoeia

ohhhhhhhhhhahdowanabeeyanonumotupeeyanoyzizarsoboysturusmyownlyuthurchoysiztubeeyoysturusn
shutmaiselfinsaydmayshelasolipsisticwishinwelkulapsintuasingulqwarknhoepfuleeixploedwenweerumoovtha cork.

(I've got a pretty proposition for you:

In this bottle I have caught a conversation, a collection of our gayest grammar games.
In the grass we can

• ferment this cart of peaches;
• extend the farthest reaches;
• circumvent the art of teaching you to forget my name.)

maybeealadmitamamatonameeavictumuvanonamislubotumeerumoovmaibodeeyaywoentstandfureneethingadal

miymiyndizfloedingthrooatankuvtiymwanduringthrooeedanwiynthroobrayneebriyntumeetmaimentulmait.

Notes are just stones to throw at seagulls and hope to scatter sand.

Rings are just thrones to stow our secrets in instead of holding hands.

Clothes are just shades to shut the sun out and scarce does rapture fit.

Words are just ways to flatten beauty and not to capture it.

(Cheers to Riley Arthur for the last line of this song, which was the first line of this song.)