thanks to everyone who's ever been there to support me.

i wouldn't be here without you guys.

this was gonna be for 2k, but fuck it, you guys deserve it.

a letter to my freshman self (prod. purpan)

edit/update: the person who this song was originally written about is now essentially devoid of respect and likability in my eyes, so now it's a ballad for all of the lovers out there who aren't fucking each other over.

good riddance, s.

thanks, p.

thanks, world.

[peace.love.happiness]

e[u].logy (prod. purpan)

AIBRY – Cassette Tapes

This project is more than an album — it’s an artifact. A two-sided experience that plays like a lost tape rescued from the static. Side A hits fast and raw, with fractured memories and jagged rhythms. Side B slows down into the deep burn, echoing in distortion and decay.

Every track is a chapter — reels spinning, signals breaking through the noise. This is trauma, survival, and rebirth, pressed onto magnetic tape and left for anyone brave enough to press play.

📀 Track Order

Side A

Press Play 
Legacy/Cracks
Walkman Wounds
Signal in the Static
Loop Failure
Rewind Interlude

Side B
7. Ashes to Armor
8. Static Saints
9. Channel Burn
10. Sidewalk Gospel
11. Dead Air Interlude
12. I Stayed 
13. Outro

⚡ Explore the full interactive deck and message board: https://thelastcassette.neocities.org/

Walkman Wounds

produced by me. :)

i made a beat and wrote some raps, hope you like it!

bliss

thank you to everyone for all the support, really

prod. @yungameba
mixed by @tevinwmusic

if somehow scientists proclaim they see the apocalypse approaching 
I would buy a box of tissues, Oculus and lots of lotion 
and just lock myself indoors, I’d build a bunker out of blankets,
a fallout shelter out of sofa cushions, cook a bunch of pancakes, 
while I thunk about my grandkids, I’d prolly have to forage lunch,
or have a bran of storage porridge and a can of orange chunks,
until I reached a shortage, then if I hungered for a banquet

I’d make cocktails, mostly molotov
and waltz on over to a wal-mart with my martyr-like martini bombs and wall it off
so I could have the whole place to myself,

 I’d stop and start to crop apart the shopping carts 
and fashion pitchforks from the bars until I felt a sense of self-defense, 
I’d meld a fence around the produce sector and I wouldn’t have to spend a cent, 
I’d set up tents in electronics and wouldn’t have to send the rent, 
Instead of panicking, I’d marshal mannequins, pretend they’re friends
and host a massive slumber party in the “home and bedding” end

cause all I need to be content, is room and board and solid food
if I end up the last on Earth, then I’d adore the solitude
and I don’t mean to sound too rude, I just don’t really find it strange
that I don’t care the way we go, whether it’s war or climate change
atomic bombs or comet craters, hordes of zombie space invaders,
angels singing psalms while Satan’s satyrs crack through the equator
either way we’re gone, and I don’t feel the need to lift the rug,
if I can spend my final moments happy, I don’t give a fuck

I’d do my best to reconstruct tho, if let’s say the apocalypse 
caused major drops in populace and hit New York’s metropolis, 
I’d obligate myself to help me congregate the boroughs, 
add some zeroes to the census bureau’s copy room materials,
I’d even copulate with girls to help repopulate the world
cause that would be my duty;

 maybe I’d do what Jehovah would
and go for broke and build an ark of fifty cubits gopherwood
but leave the termites out cause surely that would not go over good

If I knew the world was ending
I’d start texting all my exes
and fuck ourselves to death until Jesus resurrects us
and the trumpets say 
it’s judgement day…

cataclysm

I woke up from a nightmare feeling all kinds of depressed. I looped a beat by engelwood and came up with this and a couple other things I did out of trying to escape the thoughts. Im getting there guys. Thank for listening and showing love.

Engelwood if you find this and hate me for using the beat or looping it I am sorry.

I had to get some things off my chest.

Other songs included in these releases are wake up , still ( a remix of a g eazy song ) , and " doing well "

Just some demos I did today.

Unedited and uncut.

Just some emotions.

Thanks guys

FATHERFATHER (prod. engelwood & slim tone) [demo]

combined She's So Nice and and secret 5 second preview off Pink Season

i know she's so nice (Joji/Pink Guy mashup)

twitter

thankful

@aimless-beats

hey, everyone is someone at least a little bit different online
don't be scared to be honest, okay?
love you
<3

LYRICS:
we all got internet personas
internet personas we hide behind
we hide behind

we all got demons deep inside us
demons deep inside us we try to hide
we try to hide

i forgot who it is i truly am long ago
but i'll keep searching for it while i can

i knew a boy who could outline a shape in a second
that's display was eclectic in a way that was second to none
he had a hand than swam like fish in the seas
and a penstroke that'd bring any critic to his knees
it was beautiful, flowing like the blood inside my artieries
he painted hearts as targets and was practicing his archery
mastering the artistry he carried in his chest
until at best it was a godsend, and worst, it was a part of me
'til suddenly... things began to seem different
moods dissipated into blue and grey pigments
but surface-wise his screen names were never inefficient
as a method to communicate that happiness was with him
so a couple thousand people saw a perfectly inoccuous complexion
while i was tryna talk him through depression
the lesson to be learned is that your heros aren't invincible
just normal folks who often need expression, so pause and leave a message...

if you want; they'd probably appreciate it...

...internet personas
internet personas we hide behind
we hide behind

we all got demons deep inside us
demons deep inside that we try to hide
we try to hide

i forgot who it is i truly am long ago
but i'll keep searching for it while i can

i knew a person who could cultivate the words that they aligned
in a way that could coerce a train to fly
a perfect state of mind in which to learn creative rhymes
until their person was emburdened by the verses they designed
and they began to lose their touch...
the little quirks in all their writing became terse and uninviting
and ingesting any lettering they surgeoned into life
instead of being entertainment was inert and just absurd and all the work was fucking tiring
and suddenly... they were writing less and less
in spite of their success they saw no light and second guessed
the creativity they harbored in their heart
there's only so much fucking artwork you can make 'til you forget the way to start
so a couple million people saw some dipping in the frequency
of music while they fought idiosyncracy
that slept as mental illness... and woke as some peculiar train of thought
that masqueraded as a symptom of a hindering deliquency

i hope that all these words have made you think of me

internet personas, internet personas
we all got internet personas, internet personas (x7)

internet personas (prod. aimlessbeats)

internet personas (prod. aimless)

edited out intro for pt. 2 and cut and added things

atlas- wordsmith (both parts)

prod. @jhfly
art by rach, @passive155 on twitter

i miss the olden days
back when we would drive my civic off into the sunset, windshield glowing with a golden haze
i miss the simpler times
when you could pick me up at 4 am and hit the road and we would improvise 
with nothing in the GPS, back when we were free to roam
and brought a pillow with us so that anywhere could be our home
not the most romantic, but we planned out all our future dates
and snuck in every morning to cop breakfast at a super eight 
I’d waltz in past the front desk, then open the cafe door
you’d slink in and we’d have a banquet that we’d never pay for
two goody-two-shoes breaking all the rules, little rebels, we were perps
tryna hide our smirks while slipping fruity pebbles in your purse
and as we dipped out of the exit you would grin as if you’d robbed a bank
hop into our getaway and gun it on an empty tank
pull into an vacant station where our car’s the only one


there’s something meditative about the smell of fresh petroleum  



but things have changed since,

 cars are losing their appeal
it’s been decades since I’ve even gripped a steering wheel
elon built a hyperloop so no one drives drive a coupe no more,
people take their transit-pods through traffic on their private routes
china’s got a maglev train but I would never get aboard
in russia I heard they could program people so they teleport
point A to B, always know exactly where you’re headed for
remember when a road trip meant a sojourn, not a metaphor
remember rolling windows down with levers on the metal doors
and reaching back behind your seat to find that bag of kettle corn
one foot on the floorboard, then put on the gas
yearning for that rearview mirror, i’ve got one foot in the past