my amp spent it's first day on its face. manipulated sonic shapes stem from a change of tubes that help the speaker emanate grooves. buzzing clear. moving particles of air and water to the side while they take liberties and i get to take waves for joyrides. a silence followed by a buzzing from the cable thats unplugged wakes you up from sleeping. pitches you picked are not worth keeping. you throw your plank across the floor, you have become dissatisfied in you, yeah you used to do more, but that spark inside you has died. mercurial mad complex. temper to reach an apex. the tone that this machine inflects beats watching nasty carwrecks. it is amplification. a cable with folded extras is picking up the radio station. lets call and ask for Heccra! mmmmm the warmth from valves on. the skittering electrons, the moving freely subatomic lacking any surface tension. an old frustration you can't move, you are held down in midair, you don't have mass to get momentum. problem solved! i smile bashfully while you take everything that my hands choose to produce and make it sweet like melon juice. my fingers twitch and it sounds like shit in any other unit. you are my newfound favorite. magnet receive. take it from me. notes with a loud buzz, twinkles and amp fuzz. taking from tubes and making it all about you. the truth is i'm glad i sold my soul for you.
give me criticism

Amplifier Demo

you've got plenty of space in your big bedroom. contemplate what's really bugging you. is it your intake of entertainment for taking pain away? so far its pretty hard to leave your friends and family's mouth's ajar. not so shocking news of quiet unsurprised and acting like it. stay edgy and unpredictable. stay mad, your mood's unmalleable. make sure your friends don't know that you make sure all your days are miserable. take charge of who you are. you are the dealer of your own cards. 21 is not so far you have a 9 and ace of hearts. success; just a rumor built around you being a loser. everybody's in on it no-one thinks you're cut out for it. you will not be a part of this. stay home and watch the highlight clip. you self-aware enough to realize the things you know you cant admit. it shouldn't take a smoke or drink to know that life isn't infinite. cross lines that aren't meant to be (crossed), see things that you aren't meant to see. fuck those who say that you are not in charge of your own fucking destiny. 

Victim

a screw that gets tighter with each turn. you know everything. you're unwilling to learn. new information doesn't concern you unless it has to do with miley's return-- you don't care how you get by. you make excuses and rationalize that none of these things will be fixed by the time you're 35. they take you serious, just as you planned. you're so mysterious. you're such an interesting friend. you are mistaking your wants for needs. you're getting harder and harder to please. the biggest accident wasn't the world, it was you thinking it was made so you can get what you deserve. you lie awake at night wondering why the hell you lie. is it because you aren't built for this? the constant playing to their strengths. the trivial bullshit you hate but have to cave to. everyones' perceptions own you. (don't make some shit up you know they'll listen to) thoughts you're conceiving; of laments and grieving? the LIES you're weaving? they are (in fact) believing. the songs that "WAKE YOU UP INSIDE," your parents giving you a ride, two thousand guys that love your face, don't comfort you inside this place. the birds don't judge the lower sound, the frequency close to the ground. they choose to not participate. find someone you do not hate and tell them everything you know, about feeling empty/hollow, when everyone around you thinks, you are so fucking interesting.

Trixie Tang

she sheds her clothes. she laughs and curls her toes. time moves too slow when you are close. she thinks that she knows what she's doing. lying to make life seem worth living. staring at your ceiling and trying to hide this feeling. you're far too stoned and not alone.

i have to go outside? suicide is not an option, right? don't want to expose myself to the light, and let my skin and your rays collide. dead hair and humid air, frizz always competent to wear. UV and little me see other people trying not to stare. big people little brain. societal underwear stain. they love you yet they always have a new thing about which to complain. they're not my enemy, as much as i'd want them to be. even if they're the problem, i know i am just as guilty. you'd smack new jersey in the face, with you in criminal amounts to see me laugh till i'm in pain at orange skin and bikini's complaining about the suntan oil they forgot to bring. i'll cant take critics to the face. i feel uncomfortable in an unisolated space. i let potential go waste. but when i step beneath you, all of that bad shit just gets erased. shorts short enough to show their waist. hairtied and occupied, buggy glasses welcome scrutiny. steady diet of creatine, tan lines, a box of wine. that's it, their perfect evening. i melt i shake i'm nothing that i wanna be. i cry i quake in the face of slight adversity. infatuated by the first thing i see in the morning. nothing has ever made me feel so lucky to be living. i'm gonna get to treasuring, i hope it's always you and me.  when its all over, don't bury me beneath a shady tree.

I Don't Hate The Sun Anymore

your mild "depression" tends to stay the same no matter who you talk to. no one seems to get whats underneath and occupying your afflicted brain. please realize that you're the only one that you have right to blame, because nobody knows what you won't tell them, and nobody can help if you won't let them. but you can't trust anyone cause as far as you can tell, yeah, (nobody here gets you and it's getting kinda hard to get yourself) you call them friends with air-quotes said out loud. you find it hard translating feelings into words out of your mouth. in front of them you can't just spit it out, so the feelings fade and you just calculate your crippling self-doubt. you hope they read these words and ask themselves, "is this about me or somebody else?" you held it in too long stick your friend upon a shelf to gather dirty dust instead of telling him you've had enough. there's no need to discuss, no need to allow them to adjust. or let it all build up inside until your rage turns to disgust. violate their trust, make them think they did something wrong. "but you never said you never felt like you belonged"

Glad To Forget You

i'm sorry 

i’m doubting if I’m making choices for my soul. because they all love it when i hide beneath my folds of a polyester blanket covering my toes. it always takes long to warm up. my default is “too cold.” take your hands out from under me you’re not going to feel this for much longer. its not my fault i don’t care my brain just tends to wander my heart just tends to wander too. i can’t see anything good about this, cause i don’t want to hurt you anymore. i tell you straight to try to minimize the pain. your face distorts and makes me want to run away behind a giant mountain just to hide my shame... and in the long run i don’t think you’d like me anyway. i am nothing, i can’t complete you. i did it for you. i can’t see anything good about this, cause i don’t want to hurt you anymore.

Save You From

this is the most optimistic song i've ever written. use me use me use me use me

take me off like wet socks after walking through a nasty storm. leave me damp in the foyer while you sit by a fire so warm. just your touch is enough. i could be alone but i'm not (and i'd rather not be) i am glad you stayed dry, i could be soaked and never mind. as long as you're here, as you're strong, and you're near, i'll be fine.

Socks

old one that i felt like rehashing
lyrics
your slowly decomposing into forms i can't relate to, your face is slowly warping; i can't help you anymore. should we light a smoke and paint the clouds? should we get fucked up and scream too loud about the shit we don't know shit about? if only we thought more than ran our mouths… you start talking after they turn their backs "elementary! you're craving what you lack!" personable people, they say they wish for death: you can't help but smile. it's a happy coincidence. it's a final and pathetic move, to see whether you win or lose, your pride is just not right (justified). (your egotism makes me wanna die). save your sleep, for when your dead, save your thoughts for the voice in your head. tears run circles, laughs run squares; excited by your eyes but you don't care. left in a nervous perpetuating state clinging to my sadness and all of my self-hate wishing for no one (to feel) this crushing lack of purpose. now i can't feel anything but worthless.

Lack

Depression is when your shoelaces are tied together and all of your friends are running past you saying "hurry up!"

i see whats in your head. i know what you will be thinking next. i can turn your guilt into regret, but honestly, i’m pretty sure a night alone in your bedroom could do that. i can break your concentration, manipulate your motivation; i can make you feel like the ”average” human doesn’t care that much in retrospect and that no matter the height the world still feels too flat. the grays keep calling back. it’s hard not to be sad when you’re all that i have. tie your shoes together and tell your friends and enemies that all you have the skill do is stand. they’ll still try to take you out to happy places, where all the people’s legs are independent from subconscious laces. i can’t snip them with my scissors, make em feel bad or lose interest. i can’t rip them off like velcro or throw them out tomorrow. nothing’s ever as good as it seems… well, life makes life seem like a real bad dream.

(Depression Is Tied-Together Shoelaces...)

Beet

I'm not sad that you're still mad, because it was my intention to push you off the edge until you bled. I'm not sure what you wanted, but if it has anything to do with the qualities that you've been flaunting, i'm not buying; so stop trying. I make a rude remark about your hair and you don't seem to care. False reliance on your sticks and stones don't make you feel any less alone and I know that you don't know that. So park your car, lock the door, then when you get inside look at all the useless shit that lines your floor. Salt and gum (not used as intended) take a look at all the semi-broken crap that you have mended... Am i there? Can i be there? No, I don't want to be a thorn in your side or a paragon to which you can't compare. I've had troubles with my sticks and stones and the constant injury to which my heart is prone, but your bones seem to be fully intact. Take your mixture for your new adhesive and put me back together with my broken pieces cause I can't break you now.

Break

we're fading out like the bottoms of our plimsoll hightops getting pulled by a gravitational force we forgot. we hit the ground with a bounce and a sprightly step (a slide similar to ways I used to finger your frets) and I know you've been a fucking miraculous story but you're a cold white bother, and... honestly, you're boring. your nepotism and fake wisdom make you look like shit. you were a hero to many. you used to fly with an emblem on your chest, the only way you fly now is airplanes. now you're all washed up. but you deserve a good fuck after all of your stress? (the breeze agrees and gives you a tailwind to do SOMETHING with)
these are the easiest times of our lives? when we're desperate for any kind of easy advice that supports the ideas that we wanna hear? how long with this great existence persist in terrible years? everyone's insecurities in a pile on the ground gathering dust next to me don't compare to the height of the insecurity throne that i built out of boredom and constantly being alone. you fabricate a reason to listen. you're being awful recalcitrant. you'd do anything to prove that you're somehow different in ways you can't explain, and if you tried, you'd lie or make up some unimpressive bullshit with your mug and your biting tongue. make a swirl for me to fall in. with a grasp on a branch or a lung take a picture this is fleeting. if you pop an alveolus or break your face, there's no way to stop the bleeding.

Superman Is an Insecure Little Girl (and so am I)

Grayjoy - Humantropy

this has straight up just been sitting on soundcloud for 2 years so i figured here ya go

my life's in stitches— i don't have any REAL bitches anymore. i used to take shots with grandpa, now i'm scraping up old weed from off the floor. he's dead, i'm sober; both of us think we were better off before. we might be wrong. no consciousness ever really has enough room to explore. yeah, the honest truth is no one ever sees you down into your core. take your feeling and ignore it til you can't even describe it anymore. take no chances seem boring to your friends because that's better than the truth you're hiding. shitty reasons and fake relations, unimportant peoples' faces colliding. see they're doing! not just fucking deciding. if one of us is worth enough to hold sighing, it might be a good idea to once in a while come out of hiding.

Carpet Weed

so as you've probably guessed by my lack of uploading anything for years that aches. is defunct. this is what i've chosen to put out as my last song. it began as two songs, one about my mother and one about the vices that rule my current life and i just decided to put them together.

oh, i was adored, but now i'm ignored because you're bored. laugh, i hope you laugh. no, don't feel bad for all the fun you've had. tell your friends to put the cigarettes away, i don't want you dying young. i am sold that when i get old you'll be cold and you won't hold me. love, i've said enough. i would shut up but downs the only way that i can shut. hi, let's socialize but never realize the things that make us die might be the things we like. so let's sit and cry about not getting what we want sometimes. try, and try again. you'll get there when you've given up already. be a friend, come back home, i'm alone. days are gone, but i'm not calling. looking back, yeah, i would've done different. i'm not gonna lie, decadence is screwing me, i can't wait to die.

I NEED YOU GUYS TO BRING THE ATTITUDE IN YOUR FACE

SMILES UP, AND THE CLOTHES GO UP

NOW GET SOME SWAG YOU BUNCH OF BITCHES

Decadence

Wes Takes Care Of Me

just the first two verses/choruses... if i did any more at the slower tempo it'd have been a slog

always loved this song

Soundcloud Rip

Perfect Day (Hoku cover)

sad is to live in solitude
far from your tranquil altitude
sad is to know that no one can ever live on a dream that can never be will never be
dreamer awake wake up and see
your beauty is an aeroplane
so high my heart can't bear the strain
a heart that stops when you pass by only to cause me pain
sad is to live in solitude

on the day i'm free of public performance

triste (jobim)

what are my predictions of yr expectations? i can feel something so significant, like a warm sun rising on a dark and lonely night that lasted a generation (or another hard to measure time). all i know is time is mine to make wonderful

situationship

the pleasure at being the cause is never fulfilling... at least not like when i was 3, distilling the burden of all of this information overwhelming my senses. well i could make it happen predictably if i let my arms and hands direct me to fragility. i moved along in the name of internal peace. i know you miss me, but my boredom/persistent ennui is curdling to a boil, so section me to spoil even though i'm deserving so much more. it's hurting to confront. this line implies two sides.

the pleasure at being the cause // in the name of internal peace

i'm keeping all of my truth to myself, because i don't want yr story to (oh so slightly) tie to a struggle seen through my flawed lens. i think that's alright... so please don't ask for honest opinions, i'm trying to think clean in a life that i'm not done defining through the things i perceive. my outlook is light, but i'm burned on the inside, yet i crave the warmth and the grace to see that i'm not done cooking. don't take what i seem to be the truth... not if yr listening.

burned on the inside

I made a choice , and then another (x4) and then suddenly I was not myself. I made a bad choice  , and then another (x4) and then I wept for there was no one left  . Branching off in all directions , a time line like a tangled tree  fighting itself quietly  in self-immolating supremacy . I'm taking the steps to a new door , grabbing the handle and twisting like mad . I’m falling through the floor.  I gotta push the reset. I gotta push it  . I made a choice  , and then another (x4) and suddenly I was in a very different place.  I made a good choice  , and then another (x4)  and when I was done I felt the love of the other.  Now all the tangles & surreptitious angles are  folding into unmagnificent design... un til I zoom out  and I see that didn’t really waste my time... be cause all of my choices, all of my follies, all of my worries , & all of my actions  have led me to seeing , have sent me careening into becoming an actual being

what's it gonna do to me?

choice architecture II

if you like the attachment, but hate my grip, I'd say please be transparent, this unappreciation is getting consistent. if you like the affection, but cha don't like me, c'mon now, take that trite shit anywhere but here; I'm tryna b sincere. if I turn the lights out  will you take me?

my heart is glued to the bottom of your boot, your takin careless steps down the stairs in time to a campesino tune. if you like the attention, but don't like my eyes, I'll stop my staring if you promise, that as i look away ill surely die . hell, if you like company, but cha don’t like friends , sacrifice some autonomy...  yr gonna break if you don’t bend.  if I turn the lights out will you take me down?

attachment

yr working in a goddamn shop tryna rip the good people off. ya can’t pay penance ‘less you walk like a menace and sniff the weak ones out. mummy says try to be kind. how can i be kind when the value mined off of those less fortunate is what i’ll eventually be calling mine?  mummy says get yours…. well i’ll take whatever i think i deserve, because i’ve been raised by wolves. they’ve made me insatiable.  inherited biology the same but ideology changed. through this ennui, I cannot see, it makes me ashamed.  walking in a rodent race, feels more like being chased, stomping on yr kindred souls is not a heuristic wielded by benevolent people, so please don’t do it.

the acquisitive drive (the soft warm glow of money)

thrashing against a monolithic existence, never progressing past your first impulse to yell at the air that newly afforded  to see that you’re always screaming at nothing. crying because you’re wet and not drying. feet in the air, s-s-s-somebody’s got me. roiling against a greedy, persistent,  bad, inconvenient nerve stimulus. not even when I’m writing missives and rhythms,  imparting a pattern to external designs harbored within the empty held in your ears while clenching your fists and getting ready to fight… yr solving a problem that doesn’t exist, yr crunching the dirt while you tilt at the lists, yr holding potential energy from moving plainly forward. yr forcing yr way into hits. shit.

monolithic

When I close my eyes I can see it all clearly: A tree in front of me branching off to who knows where, who knows when. Yeah, two sides and doors behind which hide consequences. They lead where I like  in this: a deciduous moment. Choice architecture. No resets. It’s right in my face; a twisted fork, a winding maze. What life will I choose to make; win or lose?

choice architecture

 	
are you waiting for sunshine or anything new to catch your eye? you're a no-getter, who thinks sitting doing nothing might make things better. getting cozy in a basement, while all your potential is wasted surfing the internet. you're learning slowly to just forget. yeah your drowning in a cesspool, smells like the halls of your high school. "take one more hit!" is it really ever worth it? all your habits enabled, your friends whose lives are unstable; when will you learn that you're just different? the scrutiny that you perceive from others is a fallacy. i'm positive that no one cares about you but yourself. every other conversation comes around to how you gotta get your shit together, but your shit's in your head in a lockbox. so search hard for words or art to make the loneliness feel a bit better. diet coke and pop rocks simmer down. it's an excuse to act like a recluse shitting on yourself. where's the fire, the primitive desire to have a story interesting to tell?

Self Pity Is The Stupidest Habit, It's Never Ending (S.P.I.T.S.H.I.N.E)

 	
do you remember the last time you said you loved yourself? probably not cause you forgot ever saying it to anyone else. where's the sense of propriety being a slave to anxiety, and you can't keep your dignity with your own mind kicking you in the teeth. red feather falling on your head, you keep it safe underneath your bed, hoping one day a phoenix will arise and set your bed on fire (a future too admired) and take you with it. i think it's fine that i'm losing hope, cause i'll send my middle finger in an envelope to your mom; i hope she likes the stamps because i don't. Jackie Robinson was a quitter! skin soap needed for a little spring clean, the curves of the self-effacing "prom queen" needs to scrub underneath the folds… i wish she had hands, but i like love handles to hold. stop being sad. start being grateful. all the things you have, you didn't have to work for. there's no telling what you'll think in a week, if you'll lie to your friends about the things that you see so don't make assumptions, they're all based on nothing good. so eat your veggies, "be" an ""artist,"" ring in the new year, focus on being selfless, keeping friends and keeping promises.

Quitter

http://heccra.bandcamp.com
http://soundcloud.com/heccra

gr._.ff

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