![GRUNK [Ollie Pawsey] thumbnail](https://f4.bcbits.com/img/0020282571_42.jpg)
1. |
Lossbearer
04:02
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Handed a featureless map of a city called Grief
It's foundations, a gut punch
Friendships are catacombs
Never shut funeral homes
Scrape at the sky
With endless spires
Streetlights are just black holes
Never trust the roads.
Buildings are open caskets
Loss!
Rivers are open wrists
Loss!
Yet she, with her hope like bird bones
She keeps vigil for the lonely night,
Filling her map with lies
“Lossbearer, you'll be just fine”
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2. |
Dirge Constellation
03:42
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This isn't happening
These dreams are still full of gleaming
This mind is still a chalice of worth
(gold is the colour of my heart)
(gold is the colour of my soul)
my sleeping sun cools and becomes a black hole :
a subtle supernova slowly incinerated all the beauty in my life
heatrstrings are pulled over the event horizon those who orbit now do so with apathy
it's cold and dark when i wake and when i sleep no light escapes
the miracle of this misery is in its continuum repeating its cycle afresh every morning.
and with that cycle comes the realisation that to decline, to implode and become a distant, cold
memory of a memory is a fate for you and your loved ones, just as much as it is a fate for the stars.
The stars above and stars within are collapsing from the inside out.
Skin in tact, skin in tact but my name is an unclear fog
The stars above and stars within are collapsing from the inside out.
The fire's out. the fire's out and my eyes are now just spent coals
The stars above and stars within are collapsing from the inside out..
My heart still beats, my heart still beats
But it's passions have been lost to the wind
The stars above and stars within are collapsing from the inside out.
Everything they loved crushed in to nothing
And just like those stars, the light you see in me burnt out long before it reached you.
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3. |
Absence Signal
01:46
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− − · − − − − · ·
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4. |
Channard
02:50
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Take away my body, seeking pleasure in question
"Jesus wept" he said, but there were no tears for me.
There is no north on this moral compass, no hidden world for us to see. just what slips through the cracks of perfection.
Gift of the giver who took it all, flowing physical poetry up river
Prose hanging from the walls
Existence never looked so pretty soaked in blood and accepting denial is the only thread of humanity we'll ever have.
Bestow geometry upon my wasted flesh and give it all new meaning,
Read the words of the skin any way it pleases and tell a story that lasts eternally
Punctuating images with meat torn from bones, frayed nerves and a cold cold heart
Lacerations leave their precious marks, like famous lovers through the ages
Their scars travel from their finger tips to kiss the air and every surface nailed to flesh and wood
And is tender in it's disregard for closure, distant. Loveless.
Without past, no context for torment,
For conquered skin, or warmth on their breath
What is your pleasure sir, what?
The box the box the box
Take it, it's yours, it always was.
Strewn red and sinew,
Slid from the walls down to your thigh
No conscience was clear
A price clouded, but fear
Fear as absolute adrenaline
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5. |
Foxholes
03:18
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My words are filled in foxholes
Gestures, trenches filled with the dead.
What of the wounded?
What of those left behind?
Send them wilted flowers.
C'est la vie
Que cera, cera
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6. |
Cloud Unconsciousness
03:04
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No conditions, no care
Relaxed synapses
Fractured syntaxes
Relay weighted scripture
Dead stares receive
Trembling, my thumbs weave signs of cries
They're unheard and unknown
A falter flows but chokes
No sound escapes less notes or verse
I wanted to paint a dance
Unjustly exhumed from my thoughts
We are all vague, we are all lacking
We float above
We float above
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7. |
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My heart is a crackling radio
It picks up absent voices
Half awake, half asleep.
As sure as my hands are my own,
I heard a voice:
She whispered softly, she whispered sweetly
“cut your hair, cut it all”
I stood in the hallway, naked but for my confusion
“but I have no scissors, I could only reply”
I stood in the hallway, naked but my response
“well take a blade just as soon”
I looked to my hand, wishing to follow the seductive whisper.
“But I have none”
And I'm sure that just as sweetly as she whispered for my hair
my throat would surely follow
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8. |
I Dream of Dermoid Cysts
04:02
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As I lay
My head down
I look forward to dreams
Of the sun making love to the full moon
Instead, an open window
For fear to pour through
Dreams invaded,
Invaded by teeth,
Jagged and gnarled
They track down my spine
And fill up my lungs
They chew on my heart
While thick, lank black hair
Wraps 'round my bones
Perfect jewels of crippled cells
Perfect jewels of sleepless nights
Can I get a second opinion, my body is a work of fiction
Can I get a second opinion, my body is a temple in ruins
And I can't sleep
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9. |
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In absentia, missing posters missing missing faces
In memoriam, regrets are petals- bouqets fill my thoughts
Soft eyes lost searching,
I gaze through windows
Something missing someone frail
Lightness of being
(What will it take?)
It starts life as an echo of a heartbeat
And maybe gets a little louder, louder
And every slove song lost become ghost tuned to static
And maybe gets a little louder, louder
A screaming choir mourns until red raw
And maybe gets a little louder, louder
My final breath is like the grinding of gears
And maybe gets a little louder, louder
All that's left is for the light to shine brighter, brighter
I'm on fire, I'm speaking in tongues
And the noise gets louder, louder.
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10. |
Postcards from Anhedonia
00:31
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I sing the soulful song of a man without passion
Insert anthem here,
A call to arms that fell to its knees
And a potent turn of phrase
Designed to set fire to every heart in this room
Except my own.
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