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Please include all the flaws. Don't put right all of the wrong ways my brain had found to wrinkle—nothing's quite that simple. With the highs came the lows, pulling down, anchor in tow. "I'm surprised it took him this long to go." And in the void left in his "survived by", a haunt begins to spawn, and it pleads, "Please don't move on. I'm with you even if I am gone." To decode all his notes is to find the proof in the words that he wrote. He knew, warning, "The trap is set. Please don't step in. Trust me, those teeth will surely win."
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Narrow Shoulders
04:36
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Speaking in hushed tones: secrets that no one knows, musings mumbled in tired ears, and anecdotes in drones. The smallest mentioned thoughts: more important than the lot of what is said in a daytime shrill when people listen in against their will. So pay attention when the volume drops, I remind myself, for fear that these moments will stop 'cause they keep the demons off narrow shoulders. Shifting to radiated heat: a gesture I prefer to keep prominent in a repertoire of unspoken means to make me feel complete. The morning sky casts a hue of blue on the streaming-past view of the reverse commute, but the strip of pink where the sun's creeping in reminds me it's OK, I will return to you.
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I can't be your savior. I can't be your neighbor. I can't be anyone to find a cure. So I can't be your doctor and I can't lend you sugar. I can't make you see a higher power. I'm the weak voice on the phone that offers words of no condolence. I'm the thin blood pumped through tapered veins I no longer care to replace. I can't be your mentor, but I'll leave open the door and save a seat beside me, so we can both let the pain subside...when you're ready.
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7. |
Could We?
06:04
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Could we go overseas? Where they have history? And walls made of stone, held together by moss, held together for centuries? Could we call it a "holiday"? Travel through saturated countryside? The familiar unknown like a former life's home. Would we make it for any length of time? Could we forget our debts, put our loans on hold? Could we bank on our pockets? Could we be so bold? We could force too much weight on escape, fail to absorb all that passes by—suspended like prisoners in the dreary landscape—and then long for that heavenly world in rewind.
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8. |
Brain Storms [interlude]
01:52
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9. |
On the Cusp
05:03
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I think I'm losing my mind: I feel most centered when most confined, most in the right when I'm left to be tried by the forces that grip, grip and then twist at my eyes. A stability found in the unsure, unstable, the urge to kick out the legs of the imbalanced table and relish in the crashing commotion, the head splitting open, allowing outpouring emotion. On the cusp of the new, I choose to ignore the views, the talking me down of the wiser few who know me and my tendency to get worked up till I'm on the cusp. Hold it together now. This argument is sound. Keep both feet on the ground. But when I flick the switch, the flash the bulb emits, the final blast of filament, the final radiance to mimic makes you say, "Maybe it's OK to burn up in one last fight, one last chance to shine oh-so-brightly."
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Standish Arms New York
Standish Arms began in 2004 and has since taken iterations from a solo recording project to a full-band indie-rock/pop affair. The band has crafted a diverse set of albums, ranging from bedroom folk to clever, infectious pop to loud, angular rock—all tied together with passionate, literate lyrics that manage to retain a sense of humor. ... more
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