1. |
outlook
02:19
|
|||
|
this pain, this love, this life i lead every day, it’s barely ever enough
these people, my friends they look to me for something to say, i draw a blank
i gave my life meaning.
|
||||
2. |
projecting death
02:46
|
|||
|
your cat died
last year
i could never call him mine
he was just a roommate that we had to take
a brother, of sorts
only two years younger than i.
he would waltz around slyly,
the thing was pitch black but
when i looked at him i saw
the most beautiful colours deep within him
just like the paintings you tirelessly worked on
day after day
month after month
year after year.
you made ends meet,
so did we.
once the notes that make us up
are played out of time
the space we take up is replaced
by meaningless things
that we cast projections of ourselves onto
in hopes that there’s still a little piece left
of what made you
human.
|
||||
3. |
thursday
01:07
|
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|
i wrote you letters to let you know
that i’m certainly okay.
you just send them back saying
“the streets there are still paved
with a mix between hatred
and bad memories”
i could never bring myself
to send one back
trying to prove you otherwise.
how could i?
if seasons are pieces of us
slipping between feelings
you’re the end of autumn.
i just can’t figure out
where your summer went.
|
||||
4. |
made up ends
00:53
|
|||
|
when i picture the end of the world,
i see myself sitting on the side of a cliff.
i look down and i see nothing but mist.
when i picture the end of the world,
i can’t envision it without seeing you
sitting right there next to me.
you're always there next to me.
|
||||
5. |
please leave
03:20
|
|||
|
i might draw on your face
with the bottom of my shoe
to let you know
that you can’t act like
you came from the top
of the highest mountain.
you came from
the bottom of the landfill
clawing your way to the top.
deep down we’re all ugly
but there’s a difference.
you’re nothing
you’re matter
you’re human garbage
you take up space
that’s deserved by others.
we don’t need you.
i might draw on your face
with the bottom of my shoe.
we don’t need your opinions and
we don’t need
your stages.
you’re human garbage.
|
||||
6. |
||||
|
i’ve been writing your eulogy
since the first second
i realized
that one day you’ll be no more.
i’ve been thinking about it
since her funeral
when i was 10.
i saw you up there
being the giant anchor
to my entire life
that you’ve always been.
i don’t remember much about it
other than what you said at the end
“she is me,
and i am her.
we will live forever.
as long as she is in my head,
she’s here with me.”
when people
ask me what you’re like
all i can think to say
is that she is me
and i am her.
you’re in every mirror i see.
when you go,
a thousand imperfect birds
will fly out of your mouth,
with odd colours
and broken wings.
maybe then
i will know what i have to say.
she is me.
i am her.
we’ll make it
through the worst
yet.
|
||||
bluebird Halifax, Nova Scotia
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