1. |
In The Name Of The Body
02:59
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Cut and paste the pieces of my skin into a tapestry
Clip off a bit of hair, put some at the top there
A collage of no substance, a piece of no value
Just an amateur collection of some cells and red and blue
Can you tell how ready I am to give up on this one, too?
Purple and red come together to stain a canvas to create a portrait of imperfection in the name of some kind of art, if it could be called that, if it could be called that. Nails and teeth biting into my flesh, carving a story with no clear points and no goddamn substance, no fucking substance.
Cellulite scars, nothing quite right about the way my proportions line up
Nothing so damaged as this unscathed body of mine
I grow so weak as I see the skin on my hands crack so easily
They tell their own tales, but they fall on deaf ears as the person they're closest to doesn't care to hear them
No, I don't care to hear them
I'm not an artist and that's not hard to understand
I've worked hard on this piece all my life to see no progression
Each story unfolds with no sort of lesson
No morals, no compasses, not one map
Not a single hope of reflecting exactly what I'm trying to feel
Or what I've tried to heal
I'm not an artist, I'm not an artist, I'm not an artist
You'll see that with time
I'm not an artist, I'm not an artist, I'm not an artist
You'll see that with time, you'll see that in time
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2. |
Pacific
06:04
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it's with a heavy heart that I write this letter for anyone who could be bothered to read it
and even I, as the author, can hardly bear it because who the hell would want to hear any of this shit?
it's far too late at night to be thinking clearly and I'm losing hold of any hope
so chuck me off this ship. I'm far beyond desperate. I can't keep my grip on this sinking life boat.
but I want you to know that everything I ever told you was a lie
I was never doing okay and I won't ever be alright
I just thought you might like to know before it's too late
I'm stuck inside a bottle dropped off a ship at sea
I won't last much longer because I think I've sprung a leak
and by the time I reach the shore it won't matter anymore
because the note was impossible for you to read in the first place
Captain, Captain, I have to get off this ship
I don't care where the dock is. I don't even want to find it anymore.
I don't mind if I drown now because if there's only one thing that I've found out
it's that there was never any hope that I'd make it
it was silly of me to dream of the smallest chance that I'd make it
there was never any indication about my low morale
and though I'm terrified of water, I can somehow say that it looks welcoming now
the crack above my head is spreading and I can hear the stress on the glass
I haven't sunk yet but it sure feels like I have
how far to the bottom? I don't wanna see the surface now
there is no up anymore. the only way out is down.
I'm stuck inside a bottle dropped off a ship at sea
I don't wanna last much longer. there's nothing left here for me.
and now I've reached the shore and I wanna go back out in the tide
the Pacific is my home now because out there, no one sees me for miles
Captain, Captain, don't name your ship for this boy who was lost at sea
it'll only bring bad luck to anything that shares its name with a wreck like me
Captain, Captain, don't name your ship for this boy who was lost at sea
it'll only bring bad luck to anything that shares its name with a wreck like me
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3. |
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two in the morning is the only time of day when I see clearly
staring at the ceiling has a certain effect on the way that I think
about what could have been, about what should have been
about the way you looked at me when you told me, "it's over"
I wish you'd never said, "it's over"
why do these empty walls look so angry?
I wish I could go back to your arms
and find the comfort that I used to find there before we drifted apart
I'm not angry with you. just pissed at myself for letting you get away
with my heart in your hand. you threw it in the trash and I'm left standing here all alone
it's hard to sleep when all I dream of is you
and the way the sunlight played on your face when we went to the lake last June
but staying awake is almost worse because at lease in dreams I'm not alone in this bed
with pillows all around in an attempt to imitate the images you left in my head
why do these four walls keep tormenting me?
I can't find a sense of peace
I can't be okay without you next to me
I know it's pathetic that I'd need your help to stay afloat in this ocean of hell
the tide is dragging me down
please keep me from drowning
these four angry walls in my room have been keeping me from getting any sleep
they look at me like I've done something wrong but I've forgotten how to think
I go over every moment in my head at least fifty times a night
but no matter how much I over-analyze, no other choices seemed right
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Narrative Tacoma, Washington
acoustic sad stuff
Parker Eberle
contact for booking inquiries
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