I'll waste the sunlight tracing this pavement searching for an answer, for some feeling I almost knew. But there's no answer in the braille of worn asphalt. There's no response from the lines where our bones broke. With my ear to the floor, I'll listen for a heartbeat, but the only sound is wheels spinning free. Overturned, eyes closed, stained red, our home is dead. Fever Dream And I sweat out your fever dream, but it's heat's still painted on me.
I wear you like a sketch of an incision, a cut not deep enough to bleed. If there's an honest answer out there, its that I've lingered too long. The ghost of you I thought I knew for so long was always gone.
I left my voice on the wind, it tore my words apart. And pieces of this were best left scattered, like the ashes of someone loved but lost. And if I found it buried in the soil, I wouldn't dig for the purity. Its a shallow grave sometimes I think it's ready for what's left of me. I can hear your voice, its like a siren repeating.
We slept in beds that were broken in half, rearranged while we dreamed of windows caving to the pressure from the storms the summers would bring. The air was cold then, your breath made a map of your movement, it was an unsure cloud, as wandering as the words you locked inside it.
Its this silence I've been walking through, I can't see my reflection through. This season's like an ocean, but it won't let me drown. Its too cold to breathe, but I can't make the shape of a home through the fog in front of me,. February February forgot me, and I swore, myself, I wouldn't give my conscience the chance to look back. But if you're asking me now: I'd rather see you as the ice in my veins, so I could watch you until you disappeared.
If you were standing by me as I walked away you could have kept me if you wanted me here. But at least I'm making strides where the trail is cold, my hands curled fast around the warmth I hold. Sometimes its like a brick behind my throat, now its the heat from her skin, beneath her clothes.
Our City as a Floodplain Disconnected from the gravel in the alleys that taught our throats to sing, I miss these streets and how they used to hold me like the bedroom in the suburbs where I used to sleep. This city built it's lights like a cradle for the desperate youth, but when we left it was a wasted bed, worn to death by the bodies of our darkest nightmares and the memories our coldest sweats. And i don't know if I could sleep again, this place has killed our dreams.
I traced a map on the back of my hand, but i still can't see. How did we lose our way? I feel like the rain, raising the water by day, and soaking river road with the memory of what used to be. Maybe it was me that pulled the tide, so when the pressure gets too high, I can disappear at the water's edge, so i can swim in my own regrets.
But we're still separated from the river that left us here, we grew by the silt from the floodplain, but we withered to grey in the sun, our veins too swollen to stay shut. We're the waters that dried up, we're the blood that was lost. We're the flood that returned unrecognized, we're the homes that never forgot. Funeral Home There's a heartbeat in everything, and I'm holding my hands to the wall.
The feeling won't come easy but it's the fire underneath that I want. And I can feel the flames crawling their way up the sides of my throat. Its not a drink in a glass, it's a hand on the stove. Its knowing not to come home. So when it swallows me, I hope the black cloud billows like the sound of sirens running through the neighborhood.
So send the ashes of my bedroom to my last known address. I'll spread the dust of my childhood over the street i've been left with. I'll leave the urn open to the rain, spill it on the page, cross out the ink of yesterday. If theres a fire left in me, pour out my contempt and wash it away.
See the seller's Read more about the condition New: A brand-new, unused, unopened, undamaged item including handmade items. See the seller's listing for full details. See all condition definitions opens in a new window or tab.
Record Size:. United States. Release Title:. Our Home is a Deathbed. Does not apply. Right of Way Record Store rightofwayrecordstore Shipping and handling. The seller has not specified a shipping method to Germany. Contact the seller - opens in a new window or tab and request shipping to your location. Shipping cost cannot be calculated. Please enter a valid ZIP Code. Shipping to: United States.
No additional import charges at delivery! This item will be shipped through the Global Shipping Program and includes international tracking. Learn more - opens in a new window or tab. There are 1 items available. Please enter a number less than or equal to 1. Select a valid country. Please enter 5 or 9 numbers for the ZIP Code. This item does not ship to Germany. Handling time. Taxes may be applicable at checkout. Learn more. Return policy. After receiving the item, contact seller within.
Items On Sale. About Me. Cassette tapes. Music Magazines. Vinyl Records. Compact Discs. Shipping and handling. This item will ship to Germany , but the seller has not specified shipping options. Contact the seller - opens in a new window or tab and request a shipping method to your location.
Shipping cost cannot be calculated. Please enter a valid ZIP Code. Shipping to: Worldwide. No additional import charges at delivery! This item will be shipped through the Global Shipping Program and includes international tracking. Learn more - opens in a new window or tab. There are 1 items available.
Please enter a number less than or equal to 1. Select a valid country. Please enter 5 or 9 numbers for the ZIP Code. Estimated between Wed. Estimated between Mon. Estimated between Fri. Handling time. Taxes may be applicable at checkout. Learn more. Return policy. Return policy details. Seller does not accept returns. Refer to eBay Return policy for more details. You are covered by the eBay Money Back Guarantee if you receive an item that is not as described in the listing. Payment details. Payment methods.
0コメント