I am ever-growing, but they cut my heart out, leaving on their way. I am left here with a piece missing that I will never know. Now, consistently I can feel that piece from me, slowly dying silently. I am just a rotting tree.
My core is severed.
Let's try something that we cannot dream. Let's see new colors that I've never dreamt of. They persist. Let's try something that we cannot dream. Let's see new colors that I've never seen before. They conflict with the doves around my head. They linger in the fields. I find that under the shadows of wheat they wait still. It seems so fitting.
You never knew what a shame it was when you took this piece from inside of me.
I am one with the vine. My heart sings. My head in the clouds. Wind in my face, we look and find no rest. The wind will sing. We are one with the vine. We won't go back to it.
We won't go back to it.
Let's try something that we cannot dream. Let's see new colors that we may never see, again. We are slaves.
Track Name: Talons
where the harpy lies
(fluttering/magnificently)through angles unparalleled.
(with skulls rotting endlessly) open, frostbitten and concave (filled with the stench of time.) she lures her unwilling undeserving prey. with black wings abroad her feather-worn chest touches the ground, frosted over. the shriek she bellows o'er the land as cold as it may seem, from the snow always comes one that falls in love with her voice. he timidly and slowly coming to her from his isolation. he loves what he cannot know and cannot see. she is hungry. upon the gargoyles she waits under the pale moon. endlessly intently he tries to find the song that sings to his heart./ she cannot wait. now his skull lies where the harpy is found rotting endlessly, open and concave with the stench of time she lures one unsuspecting lover infinitely through to winter's end.
Track Name: Nest
contained in silence. constant chattering. chipping of my teeth. laughing violently.
eyes veer towards me. moving from side to side. i try to look away. i see right through you.
weak, cold, gray, i am. inside of me where you can only find the staples. torn, out, on, display. just like yours eyes gouged out they keep blinking.
faceless you turn. all in unison. i can hear my breathe. i cannot hear yours.
dead. embodiment. suffer. you have no place in my head. no textures. no response. only red sockets | they continue.
my steps are intentional, though it may seem to you that my head is gone. irises are blackened because i dare not open my eyes. humming to myself to block out the sound of fabric tearing and slates wiped clean. bodies hit the ground. my steps are intentional.
disregarding every defense/ i silence myself and i crack my eyes open to see what becomes of the structureless husk. and i am taken aback by the smell of rot.
senselessness, i turn away from the corpses in the pile. this is what i wanted. but their voices continue.