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I wake up stolen A woman
meets boxcutter Tangle meets
sinkhole I willingly fall into
patterns And all around the
neighbrhood Nothing works Yr
colors keep on getting in my
mouth Big fog bashing into the
tile of my tongue Fuzzy studs
Angel aura falling down backwards
Draped in ruins over my scraped
up voice I travel from my bedroom
into the light Where evrything is
horrible And I speak yr name until
I can't see lines I am an ape along
the jaw of yr small mtn I peel things
when I don't know what you mean I
leave my bed grayer than the night
before evry time I'm not sick Here
is yr handwriting on my face Here is
a moth creaking I touch yr paw w my
soft paw I label my treasure I keep
moving Somewhere someone's
asking "Which one looks better in
white? Which one would you rather
put yr mouth on?" I ask you the same
thing But I don't say it how they say it
The night is gone And still you wreck
my shore Still you lay brutal in my
fingrs My mouth burns And you can't
help that I wish you were here I wish I
weren't so busted That a fly could
change I can't explain Nothing is fluid
enough There are rocks in the furnace
There is a wick sitting in my alcohol It's
getting late I'll say it plain You are the
only lion I'd let mangle me Just pls
don't take too long
This is the debut LP from a new improvising group of three singular artists which include MacArthur Fellow Fred Moten. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 8, 2022