1. |
Happiness
03:41
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Take a look across the water. Every faded grey is stitched with lines of recall. A camera lens behind them but slightly out of focus on two childhood friends and a lifetime spent in debt and a rotting wood porch and a child who adored them both. But they're growing apart, and everyday they get a little more tired of the noise of construction and urban decay, and the feeling of chaos while stepping through the front door.
And all the while the creeping of a tangled vine redirects frustration into someone undeserving while keeping a distinction between what it's like to feel, and what it's like to see because every time the vine lashes out it leaves a seem and
No amount of sutures could ever repair what was taken away. And no one gave a reason, but the reasons never mattered anyway.
It was never quite enough to hold your head up. There was too much on the plate, there was too much at stake for a kid your age.
Winter came too quickly. Green leaves for grey minds and bare trees like power lines across the Midwest. Fill lungs with empty space, rearrange my center lines to coincide with the faults you now know.
What I saw there was honesty. What I saw there was fearfulness and scrutiny manipulated nervously between a shifting hand with no ring and a likelihood of never resting firmly on a shoulder again.
I was just a kid, I was just a kid.
There were too many words to form with no breath. A pressure on the hinges, a tiredness I thought had left me. But I wasn't right or ready. Lets talk about the way that you go about your day like I never meant a thing and now there's nothing left to say but "I gave you my all, and you gave me nothing". I'm sorry father, it was never meant to last longer. You promised you would never break. Behind the camera lens, I swear I felt the glass shudder. It was always meant to break.
(Your bones will break and splinter and your spine will cave to weight. Move on, move along. Day by day.)
It was always meant to break.
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2. |
Uncertainty
04:03
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Sometimes I tend to lose my footing. Some days I shift my own weight. And everyday I feel the pressure on my chest of my own mistakes. Mistaking you for who I needed, and thinking I was ever loved. And tearing down my walls so quickly just to stifle the applause.
And when your body gave to illness, and when your wife had packed her clothes, and everyday the sickness worsened and she took what you needed most. Someone to love and give your everything and a home to call your own. And all you ever really wanted was a steady hand to hold.
At my best, I'm just a doormat for your tattered red shoes. A cigarette burn, so unwanted but impossible to remove. I am a human life. A son, a friend, and god knows I do my best. But I can only try so hard, and god knows, I failed the test.
Every day wondering what would happen next, if I caved and disappeared and my body found it's rest. And my soul be washed away with the rising of the tide. Purged of illness, reimposed. You'll be happy, you'll be fine.
But now uncertainty plagues the very fabric of my brain. Folds the blankets for your legs, keeps you hoping, keeps you sane. That collared sweatshirt on my floor reminding me of where I've been. Flattened teeth from grinding. Hazel eyes. Dead to me again.
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Sundance Kid Ames, Iowa
We're a four piece hardpunk band based out of Ames, Iowa. Ask us to play your basement.
Follow us on the twitter machine @SundanceKid515.
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