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a love letter to you

love letter to you

this is a love letter to you.

nobody can read it, and i have no way to prove that that’s really what it even is.

i wasn’t even thinking about you when i wrote it.

i was probably thinking about me, if i’m to be perfectly honest.

but that doesn’t matter. because you’ll feel better if you can convince yourself that it’s a love letter to you.

if you do, and if it is, then you’ll get what everyone is looking for.

you’ll feel loved. 

once you feel all the love you need to feel, then maybe you’ll even be able to read it.

i wonder what it says.

space for the shape of you

just picture yourself here

there’s space for the shape of a book that I wrote
hanging on a branch by a space in the shape of a rope
swinging according to my predictions of the direction and speed of the wind—
assuming the humidity will shift
based on how hot i’m guessing your shower was.

yes, you fit nicely in that space.

let’s get you out

Let's get you out (drawing by lurm)

oh, that’s you?
i didn’t know you were trapped inside a fake body.
i didn’t know that when you waved the rubbery arms
you were trying to show how you were buried in there.

i thought you just had an awkward way of waving hello.

i thought that carcass of a body was really yours.
i thought you were sad and clumsy.

but now i see you.
that’s not you at all.

let’s get you out.


i hope the vine grows faster than you fall

the weight of you
tests the loose end of the string
until all the loops slip out of each other
and there you go

grabbing at thin air
clawing the only branches you can reach
(the thinnest, weakest ones of all)
ripping the small tender leaves right off the vine
before they even have a chance to grow

now they drift with you into space.
did you love them?

or were you just afraid
to suffer

blood payment

i closed my eyes, and in my sleep
i pulled a hatchet from the deep

the edge was dull, but even still
i had to use the blade to kill

there were so many debts i owed
and every one i paid in blood

when i woke up, your hand was cold
your heart was still, your thoughts untold

what have i done? where did you go?
i love you so; i love you so


the melody for this piece was adapted from a line i improvised in the music live stream episode, “terradactyl.”


you know the drill: absorb it or die

watch all the planets
as they collide
take your assumptions and push them aside

keep things in order
punch the clock
shove the illusions under a rock

open the bloodgate
fix the drain
this won’t just happen inside your brain

measure the angle
count the cost
if you give up now all will be lost

build up the shelter
turn on the heat
keep all the monsters out of your seat

take off your clothing
burn it to ash
place all conclusions here in the trash

write down your message
send it away
this is the last thing that you’ll ever say

it’s a long way back to the beginning

the only question is, what can you grab onto now?

this isn’t where i wanted to go.

i didn’t walk here.
i just couldn’t hold on
when i was slathered in the same slime that covers everything out here

and then yanked by the hair down a slide by my guardian devil
all the way to the bottom
to bathe in a thick stream of that slime that slowly snakes its way to the deepest darkest part of this whole world

guarded so closely that every time i tried to get out,
i was pushed in deeper,
until i couldn’t touch the bottom,
and began to sink.

and while i nearly drowned beneath the surface
my guardian devil lost sight of me,
and went ahead without me.

today i woke up in the dark on slimy rocks.
it’s a long way back to the beginning.

this isn’t where i wanted to go.

the futility of being impressive to birds

i mean, let's hope they leave. they could also turn on you.

throwing mud at the wall again, i see.
you already know that doesn’t impress me—or anyone else who knows what you’re doing. including yourself.

so what gives?

wait, wait. don’t tell me.

is this to impress the birds?

you know how ridiculous that is, right?

it’s not just that their opinions don’t really mean anything.
it’s that they’re not even impressed.

they don’t care about the wall.
they’re just here for the worms you accidentally exposed.

you’re just a proxy for food you didn’t even make.
and once the food is gone, the birds will just go find it somewhere else.

when that happens, i’ll try to help you find something meaningful to do.
but i won’t act like the mud’s not there until you actually clean it off.

And while it’s there?

sorry. i won’t pretend it’s art.

i’m not one of the birds you made it for.