1. |
100 Corporations
02:08
|
|||
|
Gauzed up in wraps of cloth
Self-mummification, swaddled and swathed
To mimic the dark of a womb
An encapsulated escapist from violent hallucinations
Fear of the sky at sunset
(Is it poison in the atmosphere dispersing our ozone)
How long before roof shingles are our bedroll
Clinging to our hair, shimmering with artificial dust
Numb to the rawness against our elbows
100 corporations own our deaths
|
||||
2. |
Bleary
03:01
|
|||
|
Bleary, hovering above myself
Cradled in linens that furl around my withering
I do not want to die and I wanna kill me
With the toxins I am oozing out of my arched frame
Dripping from the void between my thatching
I am far too often too sick to allow others to enclose me
So do not touch my fucking body
|
||||
3. |
Seasonal Obliteration
02:19
|
|||
|
In bed as usual, pinched by the horrid knotting
Of two strands of my life interlacing
The thread of physical discomfort and soreness in anxiety, combining
With a thorny string of neurons misfiring
Coated in the wax of seasonal obliteration
Muddied, my bones lie unmistaken
For once in this unending confusion
Flustered by blusters and reddened by blood
Dormant grass flattened, streaking
|
||||
4. |
Only Fearful
03:12
|
|||
|
To live with little sense of self-preservation
While also frightened by my own mortality
Or only a notion of it, as I am in it
Oh, androgynous paralysis
The inability to express an inability to express
Memory loss while decaying within
The fissures within the crater of my psyche
Some days stretch past the margins
And when there is no blank space left
I feel no hope at at all
Regardless of all the illusions alluded to
In the end I am only fearful
Towards the end I'll be only fearful
|
||||
5. |
Perforations
03:02
|
|||
|
Strained through my perforations
So that their bulk is clumped and unused
Are my memories clinging to synapses
Stored and storied in an unlit pinkness
Rotting as refuse in my pre-carcass
|
||||
6. |
You Gotta Eat
03:52
|
|||
|
As I've grown older I have exposed my person
To a vacuum of increasing diameter
Another thirty pounds and I could become that shriveled husk
Gnarled against the hillside
That's been visiting as visions in waking dreams that come unsolicited
For you I will try to keep myself alive
I do not wish to expunge this quivering body any longer
I do not wish to be a mound of bones hunched formlessly in a closet
We cannot escape our capsules so we have to learn to die with them
Still I often recess in idle moments
Into a quivering passage where no words can be inflected
Hovering outside of my skin, I watch it drain into the chasm beneath
And through the whirling murk a disembodied voice whispers
You gotta eat
|
||||
7. |
Walls
03:55
|
|||
8. |
Healthy Blood
02:59
|
|||
|
Day to day lung breathing and limb moving
Brush the crumbs off of your bed
Rinse the soot off your hands
Place a sweater sleeve onto the glass of a fogged over window
Sliding it downward into a smudge and revealing dim woods
Framed in water vapor
Brief moments as a machine trying their best
Are the moments we need to keep going
We can pull through through them, slowly
|
||||
If you like dodomeki, you may also like:
Portland shoegaze that plays, as the best representatives of the genre do, with huge, hollow atmosphere against intimate observations.
go to album
The mix of shoegaze, punk, and noise from this Seattle band is notable for its urgency and bright, foregrounded vocals.
go to album
The debut LP from Shake Chain on Upset the Rhythm is a delightfully unhinged and urgent punk-noise explosion.
go to album
Sweetly strange indie rock with a dreamy vibe and skittering rhythms sounds like it was made by angels.
go to album
On “Spirit Breeze,” Dylan Gilbert starts from folk roots, but gradually adorns his songs with rich textural elements.
go to album
On her remarkable debut album, Isabelle Thorn winds together electronic noises with acoustic reverberations.
go to album
Psychedelic Anxiety
by frances chang
The New York-based artist makes bedroom pop for hitting snooze on your phone’s fourth alarm of the morning.
go to album
