written and performed by stranded
prod. by white lotus
a ghost on a tree branch shrieks
chimeric antique
he begs for his head to explode
so the spirit can’t speak
sent to his knees
hair full of electricity
the concentration of light is a rare book of epiphanies
he sits collapsed
with his back to another dimension’s open door
a telepathic figure floating in a glowing orb
its corona’s warm
but has the impact of a snowy storm
his head pounding so much it’ll leave his skull deformed
a shadow distinguishes itself from the surrounding black
she finds herself tethered to the eldritch reflection bouncing back
or is it an equivalent switch
alchemical full metal eclipse
could it be konan with a resurrection attempt
totems abound
hyphens attack a proton cloud
she knows all too well that it’s priceless to reinvoke her child
the scrolls a mess
birds made of fog interlope the left
while on the opposing edge
spiraling angels choke to death
outside the hollow entrance to the foot of supposed steps
a tree serves as an altar for a sacrifice you don’t expect
paralyzed with guilt
she laments as she shows her breasts
and finds that it’s quite difficult to live with her soul’s regrets
there is an energy that crosses worlds and integrates
that can be seen in the specific leaves despair accentuates
a nest sits
long ignored
the sky is mirror dust
through the resonance of her horns
i can feel her touch
mirroring thread
she elicits light you only hear in your head
her stitchwork persists
reverse engineering the dead
cosmic travelers
plotting their course on an abacus
i sit sightless
in awe of my moon’s asterisk
she watches my hands
and molecules on an axis twist
while she kites a star in the solitude of our happiness
she’s the halo
the watchful detached inner eye
that protects against demise
it’s not something that signifies
our very existences in their interstices are tied
by blood ritualistic vines at an anachronistic time
i want to pour a mirror on you with a nimbus cloud
as i softly further disappear into an empty shroud
i taste dilation in the candle that our auras share
you have the strength to famish trauma that endures repairs
your subtle manipulations that shift the atmosphere
your essence sews
wherever you go
there is magick there
a blur descends upon earth alongside color beams
i resolve to haunt the summoned dream that dawn hides up its sleeve
the great many tender moments lost inside a cup of tea
for how could i ever get to drink those if it doesn’t steep
the tunnel that hovers in the seams
just out of focus
and the infraforest lurking on the outskirts
that goes unnoticed
you are so beautiful when you give yourself what you deserve
the slow strobe of lightning as a picturesque soft winter stirs
the ballet performed by tree limbs that the wind disturbs
the way rays transform when the sun and the horizon merge
the elusive violet will sublimate right through your eyelids
if you appreciate the roots of the truth the sky gives
not the way the word is intended to be minded
removing the pursuit of your desires dehumanizes
evolution requires that the human side is thoughtfully sent into a void
with a conclusive iris
discarded centuries
the seed of the unrealized node
seek not to be the whispered to
but be the cyrano
the more you look within
the more you’ll see the mirror glow
and what’s reflecting back at you
appearing clear as liquid snow
