have had writers block for a long time and haven't had my laptop I record on in a few weeks. here's a little super janky draft of a new thing, probably needs to be longer, another chorus bit?

ceiling, cold stars and mildew
silence, creak on the stairs
sleeping, dogs  bowel of sinew
changing, shedding it’s hair

driving, deer in the rear view
dealing, a hand unfair
cheapening, here in this grey stew
fading, queasy little square

kafka (rough early draft)

working on the muddiness

Sometimes I look at the garden I let burn
And wonder if I let those flowers bloom again
Would they spread love or ache in my rough hands
Or take the petals up to into the hills and spread 
the love across a mountain lake

Love left me in an eggshell
Love left me with no way back home 
Wandering through the woods alone  

it takes so long when you're left waiting for the end, when it's all that's left
I remember that new years I thought I'd finally figured you out
 
The hive is dead and still the buzz goes on and on
Love lives in a waspnest
Soft and sweet
gnawing in my chest
digging through the night for a body I cannot find again

The hive is dead and still your buzz goes on and on
Love lives in a waspnest
Soft and sweet
Ashen clots to stay this hurt inside my chest
Love lives in a waspnest 

I don't want to stay
Digging the same grave   
Pulsing in my chest
Buzzing in my ears
The wasps now begin
To come up from my skin

I never thought I'd find myself there, in the woods with nothing but a coarse string to bribe me back home
I wandered in the woods for years until I found them, their own string trailing behind them, just as lost, but eyes equally determined.
The following months there was some odd comfort, though our strings gathered and no longer pointed home, that was somehow okay, to wander aimlessly.
Their strings were tattered, chewed by moths, knotted, breathing, and fucking buzzing something like a wasp nest, frayed yet freakishly beautiful 
And as soon as it began it was over, again the woods had become a lonely place

love lives in a waspnest

kafka (rough early draft)

Possum Kid

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