1. |
lovely tangles
03:36
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i wish i was a soldier, not broken, lame, and meek. i pray the faintness of my heart is not looked on as apathy. does every love song come from a longing for a fix, in hopes that all the pretty things they say and do will make you fit? i wanna be fit.
so i’m breaking habits, i wanna make a change. yeah, i’ve been trying to grow my ways from those rooted days, too deep to saturate. i try lighting fires, i drink till i get sick, but sincerely my dear, i think i’m drawing nearer to something that sticks… and it’s you, i hope.
write off all those punch-drunk nights spent alone in a vaporous daze. i never sleep, but you just might be all i need for that to change. old shirts and pj pants we can wear to sleep - in knitted sheets our tangled hands make ravelled shapes, lovely & unique… just like us.
sincerely my dear, i think i’m drawing nearer to something that sticks.
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2. |
bubbleboy
04:23
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a wrist-watch waste of lamp-lit living space: stuck face-to-face with a backlit display. shaping to spruce up the looseness we hate and place it all neatly in a dot-com domain.
step one is contortion to ideal proportions. you’ll know that you’ve got it when you believe it yourself. so, build out some spaces and reframe your face - leave no traces that you are like anyone else. obsess and delete so that what they perceive is perfect; complete.
but you don’t see the trick! ‘cause everyone else, stuck contorting themselves, is too caught up to care about you and your shit.
don’t waste your breath blowing bubbles, waiting for that familiar pop.
hand grenade nightlight - it’s four in the morning - your crossing eyes dress down the chores you’re ignoring. left bed to the bidding of glowing rose flashes. they turn hidden moments you’re never quite catching to soot on the sills of the windows you wade through to help feel fulfilled.
no need for a dream, split resolute seams, find depth past the screen, let the boundaries spill outside your mind.
step two is distortion of prior proportions, keep shifting your shape as to keep up your game. making connections and faking affection prevent them from knowing that you’ve stayed the same.
the dopamine devil and his diluted dessert, his pie only gets sweeter with every alert and LED flicker. his vibrating drones delude you to thinking that you’re not alone.
don’t waste your breath blowing bubbles, waiting for that familiar pop.
hand grenade nightlight - it’s four in the morning - your crossing eyes dress down the chores you’re ignoring.
no need for a dream, split resolute seams, find depth past the screen, let the boundaries spill outside.
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3. |
rover
03:52
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take a sip, hope this one doesn’t fill me up - i’m almost thru the hazy maze of dozy, dazing double-ups. a storied boy, i take no lengths to make it clear; allow myself the apathy to just digest the things i hear. they set alight some fiction in a frame: his tale to tell, her name to spell, a fuck to sell, repelled the same.
i take time to get myself unstuck, so i can float into you just like a rover, kept in time, intertwined, undefined.
i wrote you a letter and it’s sitting beside me, but conflicting afflictions affect what’s inside of me. wandering bodies and the people who’ve got them have anchored my mind to the thoughts of rock bottom.
i feel afraid, so on the letter i’ve written, i cross out my name with the presupposition that you’d rather imagine my voice was another’s so i can slip in and out, just like a rover, kept in time, intertwined, undefined.
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Ana treacle Toronto, Ontario
instrumentals and stems can be found at my official site below
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