1. |
peach
02:30
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the blood from a peach runs down your chin, blunts on the porch, your skin on my skin
can we count it as moving forward if its just a bolt bus to your house?
we both know we’re gonna lie here smoking till our lungs turn black
just us and our bitter hearts, looking at stars for hours in the back of your car
and we grow tougher than we feared that we'd ever be forced to and more tender then we had ever thought possible
with our seven bodies crammed onto my mattress, windows open, the wallpaper peeling and fading, and our trauma becomes washed out, more abstract and stomped out, and i know even though i dont have everything worked out
im gonna call all the people i miss to say i cant wait to kiss you and chain smoke on your front step
lay my head on your chest
ghosts of friends
waist deep in lake washington
i will never forget all the reasons i'm not dead yet
all the cats in my neighborhood and all the times you asked for help and i couldnt give it
we feel lost like kids on the streets inside our brains carved by abuse, love, survival and all those other things one way streets internalized as we ride our bikes, they become the neighborhood we grew up in
after all of the phone calls, all the letters i wrote you, you’d think i’d figure out the words to tell you how much i love you, and i know it’s hard for you to feel like you deserve to feel good
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2. |
hot knives
04:12
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i’m feeling embarrassed i let the moonlight get the best of me
i swear i was doing better, right now im just drunker than i meant to be
snow swallows up the puget sound beneath my feet six stories down
beneath blueberry wine and blunts telling myself
“i’ll wake up from this nightmare, roll over to find
your soft freckled shoulders right there next to mine"
i can’t help feeling bitter, i can’t help feeling left behind
i don’t give a shit, i’m not embarrassed i’m just
falling apart on the back porch of the house that i used to live in
i don’t know if it’s the hot knives or the dissociation
could i still drive this car all night and crawl in bed with you in oakland?
i can’t remember how it happened, i got to used to isolation
now i still talk to you at night to see you smile and feel you listen
i can feel your fingers through the burn holes in my sweatshirt
i wind up smoked out in your bedroom every time that i get hurt
you pull my hair and i get scared, i steal your favorite sweatshirt
and wear it when i miss you, months after you’re gone
i can feel your fingers through the burn holes in my sweatshirt
while we make out in the bathroom of a house i’ve never been before
when i black out we’re holding hands and laughing in your kitchen
i still struggle to feel stable months after you’re gone
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3. |
tall cans
03:06
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I’m trying to stay awake riding back to the park in the trunk of a car in yr jacket in yr arms
Nothing smears like my lipstick and talking shit on tall boys over tall cans in the dark
I’ve never been that good at standing up to the way that people treat me but i sure as hell can tell what you mean when yr screaming at me that i will never be able to get close to anyone as long as i am unable to admit that they are hurting me
And i miss you more than i miss home let’s set fire to this car and let the radiator blow
Meet me on the porch at 3am to stomp to death the fear that lives beneath the floorboards of my chest and drown it out in cigarettes
And i would love to tell you that it gets better, and it does get better but it also gets so much fucking worse and without laundering food stamps railing xanax at the beach that town doesn’t mean shit to me
I’m fighting off sleep riding back to the park in the trunk of a car in yr jacket in yr arms
Nothing smears like my lipstick and talking shit on tall boys over tall cans in the dark
And i can’t sleep when i’ve got somewhere to be like climbing past chain link fences and second chances like decolonizing my relationship with myself and with my art and with the capitalist idea i’ve got a responsibility to be productive
And i would love to tell you all the pointless shit i did today but we haven’t talked in months and we’re a thousand miles away from each others sunburnt bodies, smoking spliffs and climbing trees, at least that’s how i hope you will remember me
I’m fighting off sleep riding back to the park in the trunk of a car in yr jacket in yr arms
Nothing smears like my lipstick and talking shit on tall boys over tall cans in the dark
But asleep inside that notion of femininity as silence, vulnerability or patience literally anything but violence it’s just coercion into pacifism like “don’t stand up, bash back, and don’t ask questions” cause you’ll uncover an objective with a more materialist intention
And i would love to tell you all the pointless shit i did today but we haven’t talked in months and we’re a thousand miles away from each others sunburnt bodies, smoking spliffs and climbing trees, at least that’s how i hope you will remember me
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4. |
milo
02:18
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red rover, red rover, send milo on over
i havent held their hand since early october
and they’ve got my g.l.o.s.s. shirt but they mailed it back
and it smelled like their sweat and the diner they work at
reminds me of 3am, southern oregon
pulled over on I-5 to get even more high than this
all the stars overhead should know better than this
your quick beating heart is one thing i miss
blackberry malt liquor, fucked up expectations of starting over
you hide the plants on your dashboard i fix your car with tin foil
you know i know by the weight of yr head on my chest, tonight, this is enough
you’ll wrap my 3 dollar studded belt around my neck and
i’ll watch the whole room get dark without turning the lights out
feel your way through the dark, shot gun beers in the park
to moonlight. grab your bike, I swear this night’s not over
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5. |
black metal
02:17
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i never felt more at home than you lighting the pipe for me because my hands were on the steering wheel
a hundred thousand miles an hour at least across the oregon border
black metal, full volume, there is no way that i could hear you if there was anything to say
maybe i hate myself, i hate the body i was born in, or i love you
now i am high on opiates low on self esteem eating top ramen in the shower
standing all by myself next to you at the end of everything that matters to me anymore
i cannot see you through the fogged up glass that i am looking through
i cannot see you through the fogged up windshield
i never felt more at home than our impenetrable fortress of blankets on my kitchen floor
but the innermost wall fell so we fall back to the last resort of heat that we kept in each others mouths
i never felt more at home than three hundred and eighty one miles away from home
orange county nightmares of stagnancy orange county nightmares of stagnancy
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6. |
take out
02:40
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cool night air stagnant i smoke off nervousness
outside the santa cruz county bail bonds office
it is an hour or so if we are lucky
till they let you go
when we showed up in the car to pick you up with pizza and vodka five minutes late
they said you already left
with who or where to they wouldn’t say
so we ran through the parking lot of the county jail
our love is the corporation up on the hill, too big to fail
screaming your name vaguely towards the river levee
we are wolves and this is our howling
roll down the windows turn up the heat blow cigarette smoke look down at our bare feet
driving towards the shitty chinese restaurant the best deal on this end of town
but that was our self care that was our warm red booth that was
anything that got me to leave my fucking room this winter
my head feels light, my vision skewed trying to think about how i feel when i’m hanging out with you
I look down at my lap read the bold red letters on the take out bag
all it said was thank you, and please come back soon
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7. |
plum
01:36
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i let go of a pit from a plum, unwashed fingers, from the window
of your truck sixteen miles south of town
we don't talk anymore, my throat's an ashtray for your worries
ask me "a boy or a girl?" there are things that make you nervous
make you whisper at the restaurant
and i look back and forth from the cop in the kitchen
to the blood on your face, and the blood on the carpet
i can smell rotting fish as the shadow overtakes us
and the seagulls dive in hundreds and the vultures blacken out the sun
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pigeon pit Olympia, Washington
pigeon pit is a collection of stories wrapped in sunburned skin and a brave heart from a small beach town.
songs by lomes
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