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• Artiste: Miocene
• Titre: - I. (youth) II. (zenith) III. (harvest) IV. (dissolution)
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i. youth Air born of all Light dawning full In time arise My sunshine Weak but forgiven Lacked oxygen Voice of erebus Voice entreating Love listless I burn Am I to blame? Under her rays I lay too long Smouldered like coal This is my soul Tired voice taking over My fear destroys the beauty in you hidden Now I must tear my way out of you... ii. zenith Cold cuts into this little porcelain Brittle thin paper skin absorbs the water through the tinder My fear of fire Asphixiates the same way My fear of fire Frozen tide you're exhilarated with fever Tattooed leather pigskin thinking made it easier My fear of fire Isolates the oxygen drags me back down to ground level zero iii. harvest Sleepwalker, sleep talker. Speak so fast I spit the words that don't hit you. Slap faces while your hands and feet are tied in situ. Stay on your knees and wait for me. I'm coming for you with the dark religion of devoted sensualists lost sense, so you can attack me and we can witness this human dynamic in perfect effect. Straight face and present tense earns my respect. Crator or creator? Buried I within gold fixtures, forced words under sandpictures. I become wind, blowing us all away eventually, returning me to the sea where my thoughts are free to roam deeper than my biology. Given our ideology and idolotry, what does that make you and me? Can you no longer even speak without that black catfish on your back? A face slapped and a safe flat. We'll spend the night without lights, the way they used to in dungeons and huts. Let's get fucked up. A desire older than the mold we broke here, fiddling with our psychoacoustic makeup. A quick wakeup, stay up, shook up and then back down now drowning in the comedown. Unexpected, a leaden, crashing endorphin rush blasts away the imitation chemicals we fill our isolation with. Exposes their inferiority. So who is still following? Who is excommunicating fractured hells hurting like shells bursting beneath my feet? I've walked miles in these shoes; all I've to show for it is anger and blisters. A cosmologists game of twister. I miss her so much that this one drunk fuck will mean nothing. Put your hands on your head, play dead and buried. Under one crown, we fall one by one down neural pathways. You want to hear my truth spoken? Come closer, secret handshakes and passwords thrown out to the masked herds I'm past caring about how loud I shout, or who shouts me down. Twin pistons spark, set the darkened reaction chamber once more in motion... ...no. I am so sorry I am so fucking sorry iv. dissolution I've ceased wandering Incinerating Wait Persephone Come, burn, wait for me I'm left with nothing Evaporating I'm left with nothing Evaporating