1. |
Neon Green
03:28
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And I know what they say,
Time won’t tumble back to you,
Through the graves that we dig,
Ourselves in our spare time.
In between spare lungs,
And somber suburban estates,
You crawled in my skin,
And into my narrow veins.
And now you sink into the ground,
Spinning slowly round and round.
But I can feel your tiny breath,
Swirl circles around my neck,
As you drown.
And I am neon green,
Just like everyone else.
But I saw in your eyes,
Ambered leaves filled with life.
And I know I can breathe,
I can feel the air through my teeth,
Whistling whispered words,
That float down through clouds to the Earth.
And it all just crawled in your eyes,
To the tune of some sober lullaby,
That swam beneath your tears,
Making Earth frighteningly clear.
A phantom filled with perfume,
I kissed you atop the cavernous moon,
Watching the Earth spin by,
I couldn’t help but crack and cry,
Seeing her apparition fly.
And I lost all my poise,
As I drifted off through the night.
And your wrist left my hand,
While the emptiness served as light.
And soon my eyes turned shy,
Thanked the Good Lord above in the sky.
Lowered my head to fill my mind,
With films and symphonies of your eyes.
To the gallop of firecrackers,
And the odor from the waves of sulfur,
I held my breath as I knew,
This place would finally choke you,
My hands turned you blue.
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2. |
Bend Like A Flower
03:37
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Let’s see how many words I can confess via verse,
Before my lungs give out or I burst.
But the sun will keep rising and vessels keep capsizing,
And the sweetest of men will learn lying.
When the winter peels your skin and your bones they begin,
To break like thin, little strings.
Well these thoughts pick my insides emptying my veins dry,
Until I’ve got nothing left to hide.
Now I’m sitting in the shower singing my songs like a coward,
I’m watching you bend just like a flower.
I am hoping and praying that time will get slower but it just keeps leaping forward,
It just keeps growing colder.
I admire each shadow your fragile figure casts and I need you in my hands,
But you slip through like sand.
You’re my resonating string, the harmony I need to sing,
The rhythm I need to bring.
I want to tear off your halo,
And pull your head out from the snow,
And kiss your purple lips below.
I imagine the hiss of your cherried lips as they tempt me with a kiss,
And my tongue it slowly twists.
As you dance through my eyes, a frame I’ve memorized,
My ears oblivious to your frenzied cry.
But the most beautiful feeling and the truest truth from healing,
Is pasted to the white-washed ceiling.
So I buried your teeth in the floorboards beneath,
And now every creak is a tiny kiss from me.
I will to tear off your halo,
And pull your head out from the snow,
And kiss your purple lips below,
Purple lips below.
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3. |
Robotic Spine
03:14
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I’ve been tempted to watch it all burn,
Strike a match and let the flames sing their songs.
Lonely trills contrast thundering peaks,
And all my thoughts, they are razed to the ground.
You sold your soul for silk ages ago,
And half a pack of laced cigarettes,
That spun your head with one touch to the lips,
And your pounding heart leaped out from your chest.
The flames you breathed quivered alone,
Drowned out by all those fleeting smiles,
And bent branches bending in the wind,
Lost in each crack of the linoleum tile.
I stared at the robotics of your spine,
Wondering why your veins still crawl,
Up through your arms, legs, ankles, and wrists,
And why if you cut across them you still bleed at all?
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4. |
Woke On A Wave
02:46
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I woke on a wave,
You were there,
Beside a grave.
Your eyes beckon breeze,
Borrowing their beauty,
From the trite pages of some urban magazine.
I woke on a wave,
You were there,
Covered in flames.
Your neck craves to feel,
My warm breath cascade,
While we lay on the floor as the morning sun, it waves through the shades.
I woke in a grave,
You were there,
Lost in the haze.
Your skin peeled with mine,
Exposing our rotting bones,
While we lay in our graves, where light never enters through the stone.
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5. |
Wet Concrete
04:54
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The shoreline wraps around my knees,
My slow descent deep into the sea.
I close my eyes for the last time,
A little prayer to free before I die.
But yesterday there were two of us,
Standing on the ocean side,
While sailing ships and seagulls,
Gracefully lined the sky.
Your breath swirled around my neck,
And bent around to the other side,
To cover the fog that stole my sight,
And all I could see were embers as your eyes.
‘Break me out’, her lips they quietly sang,
A glass figurine just waiting to be shattered.
Sometimes the most thrill comes from putting yourself back together,
But the worst types of screaming are the screams that just never come out.
You left your toes in the wet concrete,
A simple proof of your existence beneath/within your feet.
Lightly leaving indents in between sighs,
Your silly plea to live on long after you die.
But don’t say you won’t decay with time,
You cannot honestly deny what is not a lie.
You’re stuck in a spider’s silky web,
Spun tightly around your tiny, little neck.
Your peripheral vision catches its’ sway,
She’s inching ever closer to her prey.
Your eyelids droop down as you stay awake,
Suspended in the air, I watch as you shake.
‘Share my breath’, her lips they coldly spat,
‘I know your secrets, yes the ones that haunt all your dreams.’
Well the worst type of screaming were the screams that just never came out,
But I’ve lost you now and there’s still something (left) to scream about.
And it was your hair dancing over your eyes,
You so flippantly parted off to the right,
And the words you hummed just like lonely hymns,
And the way you breathe and the way you sing,
And the way you dream and the way you lie,
And the way you live and the way you’ll die.
I hope you hang down from a velvet rope,
Wrapped so tightly around your tiny, little throat.
And as your eyes close to roll back in your head,
Strike one last pose before your skin is finally shed.
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6. |
Cottonwood
03:06
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My ghost it will find you,
It will wrap around your skin,
And guide you through each room,
Your hairs that raise are proof,
My ghost it will become you.
My eyes lost the beauty,
Of spiraling clouds and sand.
Those grains lost in your shoe,
That stuck to you like glue,
My ghost it will not leave you.
The stars leave me empty,
As I watch the Earth spin by.
Like a baby wrapped in sheets,
To keep warm the life beneath,
My ghost it will let you breathe.
My teeth, they grind guilt now,
As I slowly close my eyes,
To feel your naïve breath,
Those melodies from your chest,
My ghost it will never rest.
Cottonwood, I saw you,
By the railroad tracks in May,
Free from sight and bound,
Falling quietly to the ground,
My ghost it will not let you know a sound.
Oh cottonwood, I was you,
A stranger to this world.
There was no fate in our frames,
I let me die ashamed,
My ghost could not bear your blame.
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7. |
Corduroy Road
03:55
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Your spirit still lurks,
Inside the most decrepit banister,
Back in Portland, Maine,
Buried in some nameless grave.
A life detailed from birth,
Turned and tilled just like infertile dirt.
Hunger pangs for hope,
Hauling logs down the corduroy road.
Everyday a maze through evergreens and pines,
Rhythmic blinks and grins split between redundant lines.
Brooke, she made you smile,
Like a wet-beaming, newborn child.
Hands of tiny stars,
Made to singe every inch that you are.
Eyes that drip with glue,
Slowly spike poison into truth.
Each breath from her throat,
Oh it stings like a lazy, pitchy note.
Whispers picked your skin like a knife pealing a scab.
Each shadow she cast enticed you to grab,
Around her narrow neck to twist just like a drill.
Calmly and composed, your hands made chills.
The screams, they never sang out,
Like the moon without the sun.
She limply fell to the ground,
Before you carved out her lungs.
Hung them up to dry all night,
While you slept and your dreamed,
Of morning mist and white lights,
And how nothing in this waking life is as bad as it seems.
And now there’s nothing left just snakes around your eyes,
Silk strings and rusted reeds melt mechanically inside.
I can feel your veins,
Grace my skin just like sideways rain.
Slow taps from your heart,
Burn like a freshly struck spark.
The rumble of steel tracks,
Hard-pressed up against my back.
To the blazing horn,
I close my eyes in time to be born.
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8. |
My Nails
03:40
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I will trace my cold fingertips,
Down your back and spine,
My nails, my nails dig in.
I will close my eyes so tight,
And almost forget that I’m alive,
My nails, my nails dig in.
Bite into me and sink your teeth,
Deep into my neck.
Don’t stop there,
No, don’t stop there.
I will trace my cold fingertips,
Up your calves and thighs,
My nails, my nails dig in.
I will close my eyes so tight,
And breathe in deep this time,
My nails, my nails dig in.
Bite into me and sink your teeth,
Deep into my neck.
Don’t stop there,
No, don’t stop there.
Shut your mouth from all of this,
Pretentious babble.
I will scrape my sour tongue with yours,
Tumbling on the floor.
I will coat your amber eyes with black,
And throw you on your back.
I will listen closely to your throat,
Softly and gently moan.
I will close my eyes so tight,
And scream to God that I’m alive.
Bite into me and sink your teeth,
Deep into my neck.
Don’t stop there,
No, don’t stop there.
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9. |
Fire
04:14
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Your teeth look lonely inside your lips,
Like broken sticks and pinecones and wooden ships,
Singing hymns for dandelions and kings,
And trading scarves for old sapphire rings.
And when I saw you I thought that I saw me,
Swimming beneath waves and foam and coral reefs,
Sinking slowly to dark and to empty ground,
Surrounding water barricading in any tiny little sound.
And I know your face but I don’t know your skin,
And I know your eyes but I don’t know your sins.
And when I hear you it cuts like glass across my shins,
Slowly scraping my bones and veins and callous skin,
Leaving stitches to speak your words in vein,
Each syllable bends to a catchy, familiar refrain.
And I know your face but I don’t know your skin,
And I know your eyes but I don’t know your sins.
And I saw your soul on two torn up leaves,
I saw your soul on two torn up leaves.
And I will find you, unbind you, and spin you free,
Let’s make fire from twigs and rocks and burned brown bricks,
Before we melt away into heavy and hazy air,
And bend the heavens with our eyes rolled back into a stare.
And I know your face but I don’t know your skin,
And I know your eyes but I don’t know your sins.
And I saw your soul on two torn up leaves,
I saw your soul on two torn up leaves.
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10. |
Silhouettes
05:09
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I’ll carry you away,
In the quaintness of my veins,
Through my calloused skin,
And into my bones.
We’ll run through the rain,
As it dances down your face,
Spinning its’ designs in your eyes.
I’ll sing away the blues,
Hum this little tune like it’s truth,
Before you turn,
And leave me alone.
We’ll scrape the skyline,
‘Til our silhouettes, they sigh,
From spinning circles in the sky.
I miss your fragile face,
In the neon glow of this place,
Between the bare sky,
And picket fence.
I’m raised above the haze,
Hopefully drifting through these days,
I’m words that ring out just too damn loud.
In a world that seems a lie,
Where you grow up to slowly die,
It’s the amber in your eyes,
That reminds me I’m alive.
And the sound of these chords,
As they slowly start to soar,
Through my fingers,
And into my soul
But there’s only so much,
Your wasteful words, they can touch,
Oh before you’re simply better off just screaming out.
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11. |
Sand
05:08
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I am the fire that sets off the sirens,
That ring out so lonely off the horizon,
Melting the floorboards into the soil,
Leaving you naked, self-conscious, but royal.
I am the sunset predictably falling,
Over your eyelids as summer is crawling,
And willows are weeping while you are lying,
For they know the secret that they’re slowly dying.
Save your words for someone else,
That breathes this air and tastes your mouth.
But I am already gone,
And I am falling away.
There was sand stuck to your skin,
That rhymed so tight up against your shins,
But there is no grain,
That won’t be washed away,
Before the sun goes back down,
And the thunder slowly steals all the sound,
That your lips, they just never found.
I am the grace note between two dead cities,
Slithering gently, disrupting the melody,
Lost in the tremors and broken bindings,
Of bent up bibles with torn up linings.
I’m the dye that spirals in,
To stain the sheets where you lay in sin.
But I am already gone,
And I am falling away.
There was sand stuck to your skin,
That rhymed so tight up against your shins,
But there is no grain,
That won’t be washed away,
Before the sun goes back down,
And the thunder slowly steals all the sound,
That your lips, they just never found.
You are my fever that burns melancholy,
And saves all the ashes from blowing so softly,
Under the doorway and into the parlor,
Where all of the faces, they make me feel farther,
Away from your heartbeat that’s haunting my ear drums,
Charring so softly my hollowed lungs,
That speak words so often while my mind is elsewhere,
On your amber eyes and stiff mannequin stare.
I chose fog over sunlight,
That sat so tight across my sight,
Blinding my eyelids,
And tugging my vision.
I’m missing you every living second.
There is sand stuck to my skin,
That rhymes so tight up against my shins,
But there is no grain,
That won’t be washed away,
Before the sun goes back down,
And the thunder slowly steals all the sound,
That my lips, they just never found.
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Jack Kilroy Urbana, Illinois
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