Sharp Water from Living Myths by rain dares

if I had to guess
i'd probably bet
that on my life's timeline
i'm closer to my birth
than to my death.

at the end of the day
is each year just a box of old pictures and letters?
familiar bending heart, dainty contortionist
between my teeth, and a hundred memories
that I don't deserve anymore.
I am somebody else by now and I can't help it.

I've been doing my best to not approach anything
any faster or slower than it approaches me.

but my blood isn't just one color.
it is some kind of sharp water,
the byproduct of hearts touching.

since I could be anybody, my strategy has been
to act like everyone I will ever love all rolled into one.
it's a magician's trick, just something that I kinda do all the time.

and who knows what the migratory patterns of my mind
would look like if I mapped them out right.
most of what seems so circular
is more of an elliptical orbit.

I can see in the dark,
a creature of habit,
answerless, abstracted.
the dragonflies come by my hair to visit.
everything rushes through me in cold blood.

and i'm guilty of throwing the word "love" around
because that's what it does to me.

solstices of self, like the muscles of trees.

and even though it makes me sad,
i'm not afraid of the world ending.

this disappearing list of what matters
starched and prosaic
a sudden overheating
starry-like, swimming in ice
dizzy in the dark, nonchalant and weightless
vanished like burned newspaper.

lots fits in tiny spots
like a hundred-dollar bill hiding in a book.
and I can't pick out what i'm looking for in it,
making myself from stray parts,
settling slices, a collection of twigs,
fog in the corners of my eyes.

this eminent reverence that i'm getting used to
is a stone I swallow in the strangest moods
when I feel as though the time I've got
is gonna run out soon, on it's last stretch.
and I have no idea how this works.
I have no idea how precious it is.

• Experimental
• ambient
• bedroom pop
• experimental electronic
• lo-fi alternative
• trip hop
• Portland