fat feelings radiate
up my from my second brain
and press my throat
and i can feel it pressing behind my lip
and in between them both
you love crying.
feed it mother's milk; don't raise our
sexual connection on
formula
who was that sexy crooner again?
dammit. did it tweak my brain?
draining. my fire keeps sputtering
has everything reset a stitch to the right,
an indetectable distance but
everything's all off now
hiding,
capo'd and tuned down,
then flame flaring up quickly again,
proud
dre was mean to me in my dream. we were
switching off verses in a joke song but he was
singing over my verses too, and i told him to stop interrupting me, and he told me to fuck off, essentially.
commit to something.
2 years in grad school
romance?
i love crying. feed me that all enveloping, baby.
i'll dry it out with sand
to keep it balanced, my friend.
are you falling down an air shaft in place with me?
the fat thing from my throat drops all the way down to my pelvis sometimes. that tumbling feeling.
who is like the softest most formless sea?
who is like
not a projection of material?
my own interiority
all i got from those letters was a sense
of the presence
of curvy angles
the tubular, muscular walls of your maze
creative genius knows how to walk the halls
of her own inner maze every single day
blindfolded and guided by pure intuitive ritual
myopic sensation powered by fire.
my sigil and i are wet and faded red
we hibernate when it's cloudy
toeing the rounded curve
of the mooned spotlight
at the feathering of the edge,
perfectly
as if on a balance beam
who is like the softest, most formless sea?
who is like that most fat feeling?
Modular synths sparkle amidst piano, vibes, and other organic instruments stringing together constellations of sound. Bandcamp New & Notable Sep 22, 2023
Old Table’s classic EP gets an “11½ Year Anniversary” vinyl reissue, and its lo-fi charm is as warm & winning as ever. Bandcamp New & Notable Jan 16, 2020