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Fabrication/Inheritance
30:31
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Fabrication
The self is a monolith
A looming column
Connecting third eye
The plexus and the root
Devoid of shape
Devoid of sound
Devoid of color
Saturated with desire for structure
An agenda of fear of purpose
Casting a shadow across a plain
Equally barren of substance.
Without direction, yearning tendrils
Vein their way into perception
Turning soil, aggregating
Some kind of sustenance
To turn into being.
Before sight was infinity without dimension
Perceptionless oblivion
Black totems with no edge
And no context of existence.
A boy. A noose. A basement.
Familiar clothes to be cleaned and worn.
A catalyst. A brother who observed a lie.
The reality of an innocent bag used for death
In the attic where they both slept.
Inheritance
I have my father’s blood
I am his son
What he taught me is an ink
That stains my eyes, mouth, and ears
And runs deeper
Than the marks across my chest
Everyone is suspect.
No one loves me.
I have failed.
I have fled.
I have taken the mantle,
I have hurt those I love.
I’ve abandoned my other
I have my father’s blood.
I don’t trust you
But I’m open to trying.
Let me sleep on it
Again
And again.
Again
And again and again again again
You must have learned this from somewhere.
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(ab)scheid Minneapolis, Minnesota
MN-based ensemble for amplified strings, electronics, percussion and voice. we couldn't find a drummer for a while, but then
he found us.
abscheid= to part (in outdated german)
sounds to help your head meet your gut.
... more
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