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all those born among them

by wasthisthefacethatlaunchedtenthousandships?

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1.
tear me open and eat my lungs because i am shit, i am nothing, unnoticed by everything. i am the power lines, the telephone lines, the wires leading to your tv, the cars beside the highway, unseen by everything that is that was that is that was. i am shit, and sometimes i look outside and the night sky is full of all the images of the time when i wasn't.
2.
made fit for voyaging (free) 03:27
art is war i will not become a fucking screw in your machine a fucking masterpiece on the walls of this haunted museum where do you think you are? what the fuck do you want? because god is what is dead! not revolution! and i will make the concrete crumble and i will become everything bullets and asphalt and oil and sand and we are everything we never thought could be art is war
3.
fuck you and your war machines that see eye to eye with all our stolen dreams and fucked up memories of the concrete and asphalt and intention. i think i remember intention.
4.
they fed on branches (free) 02:21
conquered limbs, conquered bones, all the flesh and blood we spill on living-room floors as we dance around to the beats that stumble out of cannon fire and oh my god, new york is looming over us like we were rats in cages, but all i can see (all i can hear) is the sound of sirens and car accidents. trainwreck autocracy!
5.
breathe in bone marrow, become my creaking knees and the space beneath my eyes. i miss you and i miss me, i miss the sound of our dogs barking when the sun rose and how everything once had colour. i swear that that is the truth. i don't hate you. i don't hate you. i don't hate you. everything once had colour, and it's that that i miss. i don't hate you. if i keep telling myself that, maybe it can come true. but for now, we're dead, and our living room is on fire from all the friction. we're dead.
6.
untitled. (free) 11:08
the mountains and alley facing my window put up their palms, not to petition mercy, but exasperation: “the wind sings pretty songs and the trees all dance along but we are bound” and i respond: “i want a cigarette” crossing our fingers as you spoke, you and i were androgynous, apocryphal a terrifying metronome: open on all sides, not knowing not caring at all all the pretty things that embroider the castellated trail left by your fingers on my countertop have gone away, leaving little but apostrophe and a petition. so we dance into shoeboxes and thrust our palms into gloves or pockets preparing for minutes of piercing scalding cognition i told you last night that if you locked yourself in a box for six months, the last thing you would miss would be me. and you grinned (it spanned the width of delaware) as you said: “the wind is not the least of our fears, and trees are not the walls of illium anymore”, a sentiment that echoed into every backseat crossing over the colorado border. the rain outside your front door is a map-maker, tracing silhouettes as kavan and i left your house for the very last time, and all our terrible deeds were undone and all your imperfections were unmade. if you were an apple or a rose petal or a bent nail or a lyric you would lose twice your value and all of your flavor. prettiness, fleshy cunt and all. we counted off silence like beats in a symphony, and slowly, cassandra crept out from behind the altar and slowly fourteen bullets ripped her apart, each one a grace note, speaking, singing: “oh god oh god oh god” running through our friends with plastic knives burning hair and slipping in priam’s sons hope is the greatest of evils and we are just attention i was looking for you in the surface of my photograph paper; i could only see my reflection. and i’ve been alone for the last year, but if you could see how much i’ve changed in the last four days i swear you’d be proud of me. and i think i know what it means to say “a man’s room is his kingdom” culled and called, a canyon holding vigil over strip clubs and strip malls makes haste to his position; the candlelight murmurs that he is late, five minutes too long but we are so certain of everything

credits

released June 28, 2012

thanks to jeff, jake, tanner, tanner, brandon, harrison, ellie and waldo for making this as fun as it was

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wasthisthefacethatlaunchedtenthousandships? Phoenix, Arizona

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