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1. |
Allegago
02:33
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A shade of skin, indignant to make.
Once a vessel of the same, but
pushing fallacy deeper still.
Virulent expressions burrow serpent like, as
we fold like suitcase mouth.
Love, inefficacious. Inefficacious love.
Four years--Follow, follow, and I will lead us to where
lovers bury their dead.
Like car crash victim--
I'm a mess to clean.
Separately severing, never again mending.
She eat meat of me spit to disgust.
You will lead many more to the place
where lovers bury their dead--queen.
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2. |
Madge
02:14
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3. |
Rheats
02:29
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4. |
Ghisteg
02:39
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5. |
Hamatu
03:55
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Softly, she slips unconsciously into hip
and with a drip, drip, drip,
I’m suckling on nylon tusk.
The milk from the bog, soggy sweet
like the morning breath of dew, I do.
And often, as if it’s my coffin
you seep into me.
Uncomfortable skin we shed.
Clawing and gnawing
like wolf gnashing at the breast.
In here what matters most are the shadows we create
while she dreams behind the creeping light
we force the door shut.
Touch versus tremble
A rocking boat lost at sea
waving next to me
the mouth of the son
come undone.
As we approach the dock
we breathe in rhythm to the blinking
blithering neon light
all while being blinded by the illuminating obligation
that binds woman, man and us.
What have I done?
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6. |
Vatemet
01:56
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7. |
Orghst
02:27
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8. |
Ayngerz
04:02
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9. |
Mutuae
02:59
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10. |
Niis
02:13
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Malady, quaint and somber, softens the air with a friendly hello.
Like the gentle artist of minimalist expression, she sinks soundly into the quiet and awkwardly.
The yellow cavity spilling with black leather is now a tomb for this new murderer.
Calming canyon, a voice fit for, launches breath with a reply…
Escape?
Where might it lead?
And with an oh so sudden, sullen, reciprocation…
to the familiar, she says.
My ears are for the beggars and sinners, dear.
Something, I venture in your corner, has become an acclimatable ghost?
Yes, but for you kind sir, there is a stint in the know.
You see,
it swims in the fertile fields of creation, but I have no choice but to let go.
We are the damned for making the earth a cradle.
We are the damned for the hunger, for the craving, for the body bending.
I have become nothing but a sinking ship of foreboding faith.
Vow, empty
Vow, empty
Vow, as desolate as the divinity my Father has given.
It is not the first, nor will it be the last; because,
we are docile creatures connected to the device; fragmentary, and hopeless.
I accept you, so I am forgiven
Last exit…
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Rezbit Diortem Vancouver, Washington
Rezbit Diortem is the keymaster to transporting his listeners to nether worlds, eerie lands, and ethereal shores.
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