Unknown album (5/22/2011 9:55:35 PM)

Last Night On Earth

i'll isolate your island and show it to your lover 
so he'll know that ive decoded you, the tongue a slimy cypher and notice that we used it for a sky sexual semaphore and think that you had lied before about the person living in your 
cortex
he'll be perplexed 
by my digest of your soul

confiscate your hymen then show it to your lover so he'll see that he inadequate and desire to discover then ask me to sit in a bit, we'll fuck he'll examine it through telescope and bullet list our cosmic copulation  will 
form this 
while my firm dick
digs the peach pit out your soul 

banana peel tongue not unlike a talisman charmingly hung when your mouth open measure circumference once to find which orifice my aura fits in

show it

with JR Atkins on Guitar
Cover Photo Art: Mike Kohli
SDBD>Tascam DR-40>Audacity>FLAC 24/48>Soundcloud
Recorded and Transferred by Chris Fisher

9/10/23 Fairchild Folk Festival Remsen NY

The Game of Letting Go

bath'ed in a baser blend 
of being a creature 
cuz what some regard as sin 
i tend to treat like a feature
am i wrong girl
sunsets are like cigarettes one 
leads to another
on recidivism pilgrimage
it leads to a mother of 
a sunburn 
she looks tired

fatalist attempts 
layered like sediments 
are nothing that cycles can't erode

cycles

dont see you
i saw you there 
light switch
light switch

i love you
i beat you bare 
light switch 
light switch 

somebody to lie to
somebody to li with 
somebody to die to 
somebody to die with 

ive seen you
i read you well 
eyes slick
eyes slick

somebody to lie to
somebody to li with 
somebody to die to 
somebody to die with

somebody to lie to

i.
The sky is falling! said the human to a room of identical humans.
And they cheered and the message was preached rather loudly;
all identical humans in their homes got word
and they cheered in their identical houses.
They printed flyers and marched in the streets.
Some even called their high school buddies.
And across the world,
where the sky had fallen,
they died without knowing
how much they were thought of.

ii.
WELL WHAT DOES THAT MAKE YOU - one shouted.
At me, I presume, though the room took offense.
YOU'RE A NOBODY! AT LEAST WE CARE!
And the room grew very quiet. And very loud. And very angry.
And very tired. And very frightened
of how meaningless it was -
a fist fight in a room where no one was dying.
And those who had died
thought nothing of
who won.

iii.
Can't you agree that coping is a tool.
Humans water their stupid hopes with it.
Well. Those humans do. Those other ones die.
And no one will save them.
And that is the point that I'm beating to death.
And That death is unimportant, too.
In fact, the only deaths who matter are those
we cannot stop
from dying

like this.

apoliticalapology (poem)

Brittany M. Ortega

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