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1. |
Vitreum
04:03
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Warmth is over,
some say doomsday (in vitrea).
Carry on, carry on…
Sudden as ever, dreamt in crystalline,
feeding the ice
with shattered eyes:
(Warmth is over [in vitrea])
velleity, my splintered hurricane
— how you sink and rise;
synchronised,
we’ll fall in loathsome coils
of feathered rust again.
Carry on, carry on…
Cuts the air out in solid lines,
multiplies in curls and tines;
sudden as ever, dreamt in crystalline,
feeding the ice
with shattered eyes.
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2. |
Surface
03:20
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Must be fate’s colossal strokes
colouring more
shades into the swarm of senses,
breach the surface:
foam and waves
can’t wait to
hold you.
Let me swim for
burning circles.
Be my sunken temple,
fathoms under.
Be my
error.
Must be fate’s colossal strokes
colouring more
shades of wild and sweet resurgence,
breach the surface:
foam and waves
can’t wait to
hold you.
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3. |
Rupture
03:14
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Hysterical blood forged in ashes,
surfacing cold,
ascending the throat, caught in our skin:
fuse and rupture.
I’ve been told she died on her throne.
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4. |
Coralline
04:55
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This salt-sick rest is over,
lay crushed on the rusted stones.
The sand has all been swallowed,
it’s wrapped in the undertow.
The bay is only shallow enough to repeat
this game of wound and follow
to the edge of the sea.
Colour me insane, I’ll take you where
the coast divides the sorrow.
This is my terrain,
I’ll take you there to show you
on what the suffering depends.
Bellicose spray
cuts right through me,
birds fall half-dead,
clouds are rolling
into the shore.
I saw it all.
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5. |
Eremus
03:46
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From empty fields I saw the fall,
as this callow hunger
scaled the Eastern wall;
cast its call for Eremus.
An endless tide of downward eyes
to kneel before
as hunger craves a war:
cast its call for Eremus.
Earth unturns, bruised and colder,
(so we are led to drown).
Hollow we are as we learn hunger had burned the lust alone,
so we come undone.
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6. |
Threads
03:43
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Curse this regress
veiled in anguish,
as the threads of shame feast and claw their way
past this defense
I’ll be sequenced:
I’m not your kind.
Seamless distance
coiled in weakness
and a silken faith in a world beyond a disgrace.
I’m not your kind,
surrendering lies pale and ill-defined;
sounds like grey skies.
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