1. |
Scoliosis Backbrace
02:36
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Life swallowed enough of these years to match the angle of my spine. Ill-spoken, but lest we forget, I’m half-bent and close to caving in.
“You are worthless. You are scum,” you said.
Why do I still wake up?
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2. |
Corpse Medicine
03:02
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Outside/other/apart, you draw yourself in a silence that traces weariness on the outlines of your tired face; in the absence of speech and wills that soon break.
Wounds once stitched in light and shadow open up to spell your shame in blood and marrow; at once outside, othered, and parting as spirits do from their lingering corpses.
You will soon settle in the ache of injuries that cease to convalesce; abandoning all warmth, all care, and comfort. This is your life and you’re worse than dead to me. Don’t pretend this is alright.
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3. |
Double Tuck
04:43
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"Each time I call to you, seasons echo back in full; names written in trails, and returning as loving truths."
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4. |
Velvet Thunder
04:09
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Breathing hums seismic beneath the surrogate cradle and its familiar tongues unravel in the yearning of the north. Culled from the ends of unlived futures, they shattered to birth clouds
Articulate, if subvocal, avalanches trail on hushed. Prismatic veils enshrined love’s immediate brokenness as we devolved into vestiges once vital, now merely mourned.
Lust in the confusion of you, all words become vapor.
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5. |
Eros Obfuscate
16:23
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A conscious bloom refuses to luminesce in its forgetting; wrought in low hours, and formed in the wake of longer shadows. Weight and mass distort in your field of perception, lensing with the eternally knowing gaze of familiar strangers.
Your constellate hangs nodal; always constantly alone, only proximal from afar. Much in the way I remember you, you’ll remember this unharmed; in the waning light of long-dead stars.
~
1.
You stood at the edge of that infinite swell, watching clouds crystallize into spires that lined the horizon with collapsed sublimations of regressing time; angling forward to mark the end of visible distance in years of trauma. Sacred elevations descended into lesser divinity.
--
*A young Wolf-Rayet bursts; in blissful gamma, in waves.*
--
2.
My tired eyes opened to the sight of white heat cleansing the earth of its failings; cauterizing the surface of being, forgiving once in the ache of forever. Surveying the erasure of every single thing I’ve come to know, there is only irradiate space across these fields of mourning.
Nothing survived, nothing remained; nothing that could ever return.
A formless being in the sterile waste, I was the only thing that breathed.
3.
One:
“Nondescript divisions spiral long; as far longing takes, to convalesce.”
Another:
“Yeah, you know where I’ll always be. Find love elsewhere. Not with me.”
~
Pillars of petrified light hang over the hadopelagic expanses of lesser perception; bringing structure to the former houses of human endeavor, drawing from blood and time. Wills ascend from the abyssal wastes, to create as it once destroyed; in errata, post-memoria.
Psychic swells spring to life in the fall of Knossos, branching from its polycursal paths; where one-in-another find their exits etched, in traces, on the palms of their hands.
Manifold, and at once manifest, the constellations of body and being align; in cosmic processions through longing, transcendent and made divine.
Eros regnat; consummatum est.
It is done.
~
A11:
“Everything ends here, with eternity ebbing forth in a wash of lacrimal tides. Metropoles, perched on the coasts of creation, bear silent witness to our eroding vestiges; lone sentries to the passing of the terminal anthropocene.
Being capitulates in the disintegration of all consciousness, past and present; its ephemera condensing into the disembodied utterances of our ultimately flawed condition. All memory runs futile and far-removed, reaching for spaces we’re no longer meant (or able) to touch.
Such is distance; such is the story of us.”
-
A13c:
Pulled into the ever-knowing seas of dusk and long shadows, the sum of our love is swept away; taken by waves of erasure. A conscious bloom luminesces in its forgetting; wrought in low hours, and formed in the wake of you.
-
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6. |
Secular Terrorist
03:00
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To trauma, an heir apparent; objects refracting through the amygdala’s window. Latent ache manifests through the détente, spilling into the wells of your cognition; shameful, lensed through doubt.
The suspension of breathing builds with the sound of anxious distress, resonating in the cavities of your hollowed-out chest; unimpeded, claiming the tension for a home. A terminal halt to obligate function looms tall, all agency ceasing.
It’s a bitter, ever-spiraling hole, from which there is no escape; these fetid husks of human flesh, in which, we’re forced to wake.
“Fuck this body,” I heard you say.
Being is confinement, and the mind remains hostage.
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7. |
Locust Housing
02:57
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001. A Recurring Dream
A face is pressed against the cold and unforgiving concrete; forcibly held, short of breath, consciousness fading. The frame cuts to black, cueing absence; an eternal second. Residual swells of pressure and heat linger still; tracing along the lines of one’s broken jaw.
002. Clinical Notes
There is alpha attrition, through which the beta ascends, in the arrhythmia of living. Body and being soon drift into asynchronous orbit; in forward movement, forever out of step with the self. An aspect anchored in the other calls back, strong; binary systems collapsing from fear of dying alone.
003a. Decoupling the Shroud
“What leaves imperfect shall return whole; as shall we, in time.”
003b. Parting (If and When)
“I awaken to find a face rearranged by unfamiliar hands; hands like yours.”
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8. |
Vrtiglavica Dives
04:11
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A glacial drop forms in the absence of God; infinite recesses of shadow and earth.
Inertia turns to movement, and from there, a blur. Daylight traces the height from which I’ve fallen; diffused, to long since, diminished. Negative space swells between soma and soul; swallowing all and sparing none.
There’s only darkness; an endless spiral down.
I’m wide awake in a now-stranger’s lingering thoughts; unable to move or even speak. This can’t be real.
This is not my body, and I’m not breaking down.
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9. |
Care NLM
05:25
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New orifi are hewn in error’s worst; through collateral, indiscriminate hurt. Lights flash; from white, to red, and nothing after.
The paramedic yells, “clear!”
This wasn’t what you wanted, was it?
“Clear!”
“I can’t feel a pulse.”
The future’s magnitude slowly fades. As water through the weirs of loss, life wanes. A body soon drifts past the breach of null space.
One awakens to eternity’s knell, but they’ll stay to bury you.
Flesh rots, and the mind forgets. It’s all a friend could do.
You won’t know what it means to grieve; to cast a shadow in the wake of me.
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Beast Jesus Manila, Philippines
Outside, othered, apart.
--
Beast Jesus was a punk band based in Metro Manila, Philippines.
F. Maria
R. Pulgar
L. Zulueta
J. Crae
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