Do not speak falsely. Brutal honesty: far better a crime than your silence denies. Your tongue presses the bottom of your mouth. Words wait. Tongues are cut out. Tongues rise high; lash the ground. Place your tongue atop the screaming mound.
Published as lyrics for GODHEADSCOPE’s Patience EP, 2011.
Muscles quiver under paper in a fiber grave. Arms, interlocking, press into the day. Balance finds its gravity only through points of three. This is our only saving grace. The weight of paper is piling up. I cannot find another face. Beneath the weight of paper, we will build a home, with walls that hold fast to the sound of words we cannot know. Column A and Column B: never what they claim to be. This is our moment's saving grace. The weight of paper is piling up. I cannot find another face.
Published as lyrics for GODHEADSCOPE’s A City Out Of Sight LP, 2007.
Patience. Patience. You cannot force the moment. It will always surprise, as chance gathers reasons. Be ready.
Published as lyrics for GODHEADSCOPE’s Patience EP, 2011.
“Where one can no longer love, there one should pass by.” Though memory aches for former shapes, pass not that way again. Human curves and fingerprints should not be cast in corners. The huddled form is not for you. Pass not that way again. Where surprise has fallen mute, there no gods will grow. Those spirits have all lost their breath. Release their spent air from your lungs. Fever dreams too tightly held deserve only your tears. Lay to ground their will to death. Pass not that way again. Steps ahead, voices resound that beckon us to being, forgive us our misshapen pasts, and welcome us in changing. “Where one can no longer love, there one should pass by.” Though memory turns to clasp cold lips, pass not that way again.
Published as lyrics for Cindervoice’s Before the Turn LP, 2010. Includes quotation from Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Walter Kaufmann translation.
Bouncing around the light, space bends and beckons toward a dark end with wings become singed. She flew in through the hallway; circled twice around the room. A strange fear did set in, and she darted to the wall. Through eyes upon her wings, she surveyed her locale, abdomen pressed close to stone, leaving dusty marks not seen. Through eyes upon her wings, she watched as another entered: a fly possessed of purpose, unfolding space toward the light. From her mark upon the wall, her wings did see a spark: the fly cascaded downward in a slight pillar of ash. The moth clung tighter to her mark and closed her eyes, averted her gaze from the center: the irresistible gravity of the spider in the light.
Published as lyrics for Matt Rosin and the Dead Raven Choir’s Fire Mouth collaborative LP.