i was a nameless face
hopscotch inside of mary janes
elbows at my rib cage
pulling prodding for my bones to break
i stumbled into pounding fists
carving homes of violence
i watched you embrace it
stumble back in silence
wanted to learn your name
introduce yourself again
wrap you in light till you are seen
you stain the glass and and break me
all year i held my breath
knocked at the aching in my chest
collective sigh felt like shit
we are not permanent
my body
has let drafts in
since they built it
they can't fix it
so i leak
from my arms and my legs
draw the curtains
so the neighbors don't notice
tried to move
out last year
left no note
i'm still here
the air is dead around me
held in my stale breathing
my lungs feel the shaking
from trees falling
i didn't want you to know this
i thought you might not notice the shaking of my fist but
stems snap in my fingers
and i'm alone in this
but at least it's cathartic
lying in the snow
frost bite shoved down my throat
choking me
but at least i'm alone
i watch wolves bite the ones they love
try to see who is strong
i try to stop them
then they howl and i'm the monster
there's a lighthouse in my blood
reaching out to where my veins are
casting light on all my scars
until a boat covers them up
with a wake
i'm awake
set me loose in your folly
i am real with my blood still inside of me
let the dusk work it's words inside my teeth until i'm empty
let the moon swallow clouds inside of me
until I'm empty
what parts of me are worth keeping once i'm buried
i just want a family that would burn me
if i squint enough all i see is the ground
and i can convince myself these hiking shoes are where they should be
and no one else is around
and im happy
cheers to me
euthanasia
cheers
to me
and to the fact that there is dirt here
its covered by dead leaves as a way of saying no its alright, go to sleep.
fear is merely the peak on a foot bridge. the chlorine will soon leave your eyes
and like a blink into sleep
a hurdle will come in a fog of reclamation everything you see will be gone and youll be insulated and warm (and your toes wont matter and your bark will be smooth and ill trust you)
in a subway during a storm
a greenhouse for a farm
recuperation
away from harm
when will the time come that i change my name
address the insects still living through concrete
no woman deserves an infertile palisade
no man can arrest my mane
if you stay where you were then ill stay stagnant for my life
and the water was too white to tell you who you were
the backbone of my life left my spine so
did the antlers in the leaves that i lie on
take the pebbles from beneath my feet, now they're yours
feed them to my relocated teeth
high-five the night that carried you here
i was too scared of the ship to leave the pier on it
i found a pair of glasses in the sand, think they're yours
beat a silk drum in the city, show them whos boss
from my window in the city
i am an ancient lighthouse scaffolding
in the cold put here by desperate parents
culturally, historically marking me
with the blood of the places i came from
ill take the dirt thats staining my feet
I'm here too if i can find you
scratching at my ribs i beg the air to pass through
i dirge for the flower
i resent you
pitch a tent with my sad skin
and an endless body that i dont know
that only makes a friend when it
goes outside and sundries
id like for you to shave your face right next next to mine
i want to help you learn that dreams arent tired
id like to see a campfire take up half my sight
i want to help you go outside sometimes
cradle the fork that feeds you food
only see a hand when it makes a move
when the tent opens up and sews my wounds
when the tired sleepless girl can find a living room
its myself
that takes the time to mine through its chest for an half life
its for this cradle with feet ive been crawling
i grew up with a cowboy he was tall with plastic arms
i was too scared to toss him off the house
i grew up with this kind of fear
i grew up with a helmet made of gold and a plastic sword.
one brave move away from coming clean about
the number id still like to bash
if given the chance ill run away
a caged cathedral at least
a barn between two trees
fill the fireplace with leaves
blow clouds the smoke the girl out
what do I expect from the house ive moved out from
the bones that changed the breeze for me are now rattling at my feet
supported by 5 fans who also own “my eyes will see air if my lungs erupt”
"on days where I feel big it's hard to remember I'm not
on days where I feel small it's hard to remember the ants I've stepped on"
wow that's nice, and i also do not have a gender. good, relatable, nicee. Autumn Prince
An album of grief, hope, and transformation from indie rock/folk artist al Riggs that soars on melancholic melody and thoughtful lyrics. Bandcamp New & Notable Jun 7, 2022
Delicate, plangent indie rock from this Toronto singer-songwriter, who here explores the many aspects of depression. Bandcamp New & Notable May 30, 2018
supported by 4 fans who also own “my eyes will see air if my lungs erupt”
I kind of hate spoken word, because it always seems like someone trying to sound so important while talking about nothing. Not so here: Briar's lyrics blend modestly into a collage of placid folk and angry post-rock, and themselves contain some amazing imagery. Marshall Lochbaum
