1. |
30/13
06:49
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drunken nights capped by cigarettes that in the morning i always regret perfunctory smiles parsimonious hugs pretending you like someone you love hasty speech you can't rescind couched in cushions of stunning ineloquence and when will i learn to say what i mean am i going on 30 or am i 13? the seven summers i've spent alone are why i yearn for winter snow it's 90 degrees at the festival but in my heart it feels like 40 below the banquets of nothing on which i feast after familiar patterns once again repeat and the clothes i love no longer fit now that i've shed my superfluous skin tenors to vehicular rides you knew you never could drive still you're determined to steer into the mountainside fences that you just couldn't mend with only needle and thread still you're determined to sew until you unravel
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2. |
let's rock!
04:24
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it was "fire!" he screamed and the owls in the trees are not what they seem and the bag was smiling sans chemicals pointing won't you come walk with me? still they're waiting for a face no escaping from this place will they never know what lies at glastonberry grove? curtains part you whisper slow buy my friend you have lost your soul it was "fire!" she screamed and now the page is missing won't you hold this for me? and the rope was too tight and the bird was too bright "bite the bullet baby" no it's not him it can't be how to stop him? take the ring chanting out between two worlds find his name beneath fingernails the bough breaks her death is born he tore the thread by stealing corn can you tell me are the angels dead? please don't you tell me that the angels are dead
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3. |
night of the world
04:42
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"time out of joint" the prince proclaims pure reason does it seem so cunning now? if every soul is a fracture tell me can you stanch the laughter? no! symbolic debt the real repays enunciate but there's no metalanguage if every mouth is a letter tell me can you kiss the sender? night of the world when the spirit is a bone read my desire driving to the chase tarry with me but what have i to gain? less than nothing
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4. |
sublimation strange
04:07
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nurse grab the gauze and tourniquets this patient is bleeding out the host has failed to once again accept recathexis can you be sure that the cynosure is not a projection? desublimate before it's too late rejection fair accompli it's predestinated ironically your failed ideal is labeled platonic melancholy eternity no reciprocation let the mourning dawn before it's too long they say it's a hopeless case to elevate someone who doesn't feel the same way
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5. |
life in silhouette
04:52
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nothing works out the way it should i don't know why i thought it could this time the love i need i thought you could i don't know why i thought you would provide is there something wrong with me that everyone buy i can see that's hiding in the light? because my mirror don't show a thing but typical signs of aging do i have to bleed it into sight? and i'm living a life in silhouette i've waved goodbye to every color i once knew except for black and grays that sometimes seem like blue every color flew away with you i wake up to foreign landscapes trapped in unending caves with eroding walls my hands and feet are bound by stakes there's nothing to do but wait for them to fall can't you see i'm dying down here and i'm convinced the end is near with every feeble breath and if you press your ear to my hollow chest you'll hear that there's no beating left
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6. |
parade
05:01
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this is a wakeup call to one and to all about the prophets of wall street they all masquerade as a freedom brigade while they enslave us to our “liberty” don’t believe every closing bell helps sound the knell of another day enchained with every rise and fall we’re further enthralled a fiery pall of shadows fills our cave it’s time we joined and rained on their parade “the end of history” claim the powers that be now that capital is queen but if we break the globe of shakeup snow we can see new horizons start forming grab the bull by the horns and jail the matadors
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7. |
anamorphosis
04:07
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to cast a glance awry is but to paint desire upon a canvas blank like winged architect don’t you know that it’s the skull from which we crawl? we’re but an anamorphosis the blank that’s in your eye is the void transmogrified into a fecund lack that’s in you more than yourself can’t you see that you’re the stain completing me? i am an anamorphosis
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8. |
unrequited
02:23
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if you could see the way she smiles you’d know exactly why my heart tears away at the seams and tuesdays and wednesdays are hard to face with no hope when alabaster teeth grind you to dust the sound is deafening go to sleep and dream another dream just please don’t wake me up from my requiem of unrequited valentines if you could feel the words twist and turn (as) with enervating eloquence she stabs so incognizantly the pleasure of intention neither mine to taste nor to touch when revelatory tongues tie you in knots the joy is sickening
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9. |
la passe
03:37
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the last time that i swore “this is the last time” was the first time that i meant it because with you i had no resolve (and) in hindsight i concede all your objections to my abject prostration before the altar of your love the fantasy that sutures the fabric of reality screening traumatic extimacy when subject is object the tragedy is getting whatever you want like a button tie that strives to quilt the meaning you were turned into a master to halt the signifying spell a countdown to eruption of the symptom a repressed predilection that returns to crack the shell i tried but never could traverse you other times in the light i can see that things have come to a pass
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10. |
ithaca is gorges
06:33
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waking up to the light of the 5:00 a.m. sun no one else around just the sound of the birds in the trees and your knees against mine if i could bend time back i would i’d die to go back but the past is the past i know you’re alive but in the eye of my mind now you live as a memory that fades drinking wine on the slope with a hope that elides the tides of the past (at) the behest of a conscience unmoored the allure of your eyes set to orange and violet skies oh my hiking out to the falls where the walls of mist dance entranced by your voice (i have) no choice but to follow your lead pay no heed to the lives we’ll resume when the ivy grows cold with the snow i’d die to go back and relive the past and fill in the lack you left when you left
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misconstruity Buffalo, New York
misconstruity is:
russ sbriglia
rob goc
bill fulton
john sbriglia
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