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.
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.
the weight of you
tests the loose end of the string
until all the loops slip out of each other
and there you go
now they drift with you into space.
did you love them?
or were you just afraid
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.”
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
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.
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.
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.