It started with a flicker in the feet
A pulse no doctor could repeat
One woman danced beneath the sun
By dusk, there were thirty more undone

They twitched in streets with vacant eyes
Like puppets in a ritual disguised
No band, no beat, no clear demand—
Just motion echoing command

They said:
“Drain the blood, bake the bread”
“Summon saints to cure the dread”
“Lock the dancers in the square”
But still the rhythm found them there

The plague came not on wings or fire
But stepped to time they couldn’t retire
Each heel-drop cursed, each twirl deranged
A town in sync. A world estranged.

They danced through sermons, rain, and grief
Bone against stone, no relief
Priests blamed sin, the healers blamed heat
But no one stopped the cursed repeat

Limbs betrayed, hearts beat out of sync
Faces drained, too dazed to think
The silence never had a chance—
Every death was still a dance

They said:
“Drain the blood, bake the bread”
“Summon saints to cure the dread”
“Lock the dancers in the square”
But still the rhythm found them there

The plague came not on wings or fire
But stepped to time they couldn’t retire
Each heel-drop cursed, each twirl deranged
A town in sync. A world estranged.

The plague came not on wings or fire
But stepped to time they couldn’t retire
When logic failed, and fear advanced
We called it fate, but still—they danced

No drums, no gods, no sleep, no end…
The dance begins again… again… again…

The Dancing Plague of 1518

You're asking if I’m alright again
And I’ve memorized my script
A laugh, a pause, a changing subject
Before I start to slip

There’s warmth behind my teeth, I swear
But my hands stay cold and drawn
I light a joke, it burns too fast
And now the heat is gone

I don’t know what you want from me
If I speak, the air just folds
You keep the light on, I stay in shadow
Still dressed in yesterday’s cold

My words sound right but ring too hollow
Like boots on tile at night
A hallway echo, nothing more
That tricks the ear, not the mind

I’m not a ghost but I rehearse
That vacant kind of grace
Where I can move through open doors
And leave no trace

I don’t know what you want from me
If I speak, the air just folds
You keep the light on, I stay in shadow
Still dressed in yesterday’s cold

I don’t know what you want from me
If I speak, the air just folds
You keep the light on, I stay in shadow
Still dressed in yesterday’s cold

“You said I seemed far away.
But I was right here.”

Cold Rooms, Warm Mouth

There’s a window I check before I sleep
Then again at 3 AM
I don’t believe it matters much
But I still check it then

I’ve got a checklist folded twice
Taped behind my mirror’s frame
I don’t need to read it anymore
I just like knowing it’s the same

And I spin and I spin in the hallway light
Trace the steps to feel alright
Swear I’ll stop when it feels done
But I’m never done
Never done

The kettle screams, I flinch, then freeze
Like it caught me in a lie
All these quiet alarms I planted
To keep my wires tied

I rehearse how to say hello
And still get it wrong sometimes
Like I’m skipping stones across myself
Just to prove there’s water in my mind

And I spin and I spin in the hallway light
Trace the steps to feel alright
Swear I’ll stop when it feels done
But I’m never done
Never done

Don’t blink too long.
Don’t think it out loud.
Don’t stay still.
Don’t miss the signal.

And I spin and I spin in the hallway light
Trace the steps to feel alright
Swear I’ll stop when it feels done
But I’m never done
Never done

There’s a window I check before I sleep...
Just to see if I’m still here.

Spinning in Place

I open my mouth
And it’s not just me speaking
A line I don’t remember writing
Crawls across the ceiling

I blink too loud
The silence breaks in thirds
One voice pleads, one mocks, one waits
For me to choose a word

There’s a third voice, always listening
Just beneath the sound of breathing
It borrows tones, it sounds like truth
It sings my shame with perfect tuning

Who am I, if I can’t trace
Which one of us is thinking?

The mirror laughs with someone else’s mouth
The phone rings, but only inside
One voice says “You're lying.”
One says “You're fine.”
One says “Try again.”

And they rhyme.

There’s a third voice, always listening
Just beneath the sound of breathing
It borrows tones, it sounds like truth
It sings my shame with perfect tuning

Who am I, if I can’t trace
Which one of us is thinking?

“This isn’t your voice.”

There’s a third voice, hiding in light
Tied between my teeth at night
It fills the quiet, bends the facts
Then ducks away before impact

Who am I, if I repeat
What someone in me planted?

"I wanted silence, but I got an audience."
"And they all know me better than I do."

The Third Voice

I woke up in someone else’s skin
The mirror flinched, then let me in
A name I know but do not trust
Spelled backwards in the steam and dust

I wave at my own silhouette
Like it’s just someone I haven’t met
I answer questions in my voice
But none of them feel like a choice

If I’m not here, where did I go?
The echo answers, “You should know.”
I wear a body, call it mine
But it fits like borrowed time

My hands recall a certain grace
But they forget how to trace my face
The room is still, the light is low
But something’s off in how it glows

I speak aloud to fill the gap
The silence shifts, then answers back
I feel too much and not enough
Disassembled, soft and rough

If I’m not here, who do you see?
The frame remains, but not the me
A name I say, a skin I keep
But neither follow when I sleep

“Peel me gently, fold me thin…”
“I’ll come back in someone else’s skin…”

Someone Else’s Skin

I measure twice, I cut once
I still see crooked lines
You say it looks alright to you
I say the fault is mine
My mirror’s clean but never kind
I lean until I blur
Collecting compliments like dust
They never really stir

I tell the truth with practiced charm
I smile until it causes alarm

Perfect teeth, clenched too tight
All this shine, but nothing's right
I'm chasing straight lines in the dark
Hoping they'll tear me apart

Symmetry, my private sin
I polish the cage I’m living in

I wear this face like formal wear
Buttoned up, well-pressed, precise
You'd think I was composed inside
But I’m mostly made of splice
I’ve counted scars like stepping stones
And filed them out of sight
It’s not that I want pain again
I just miss feeling right

I hum the rules like lullabies
Just loud enough to drown goodbyes

Perfect teeth, clenched too tight
All this shine, but nothing's right
I'm chasing straight lines in the dark
Hoping they'll tear me apart

Symmetry, my private sin
I polish the cage I’m living in

Perfect Teeth

I used to hum through mornings
Now they drone like warning tones
The coffee hits, the sky is blue
But none of it feels known

I laugh, it feels rehearsed
I kiss, it doesn’t land
It’s like my joy got traded in
For something secondhand

Nothing tastes right
Nothing sounds warm
I walk through color
But it all feels worn

I fake delight
I mark the form
But the center’s hollow
And the ache’s lukewarm

My hands still play the chord shapes
But the music won’t ignite
I stare at all the photos
Like they’re someone else’s life

I know I should be grateful
I know the list by heart
But naming all the beautiful things
Doesn’t make them start

Nothing tastes right
Nothing sounds warm
I walk through color
But it all feels worn

I fake delight
I mark the form
But the center’s hollow
And the ache’s lukewarm

“Do you feel it?”
“You used to love this…”
“You’re not trying hard enough.”
“Try harder.”

Nothing tastes right
Nothing rings clear
I drag my laughter
Like a souvenir

I miss the fight
I miss the fear
At least they meant
I could feel near

“If I could miss it properly... maybe that would mean it’s still there.”

Nothing Tastes Right

You said I haven’t been myself
But I think that’s still me
Just quieter
Just unspooling slow
Like thread that doesn’t want to sew

I kept my room clean for a week
Then stopped leaving bed instead
My thoughts don't fight or flee these days
They just go quiet in my head

I shake hands with the void
Every morning by the sink
He doesn’t talk, but he listens
Better than I think

I name the shadows in the grout
Let them echo what I doubt

I call my friends and let it ring
Then hang up before it lands
Just wanted proof the line still works
That someone might still understand

I draw the blinds, then stare at them
Like they owe me something warm
But all they spill is filtered grey
And I forget what light is for

I shake hands with the void
Every morning by the sink
He doesn’t talk, but he listens
Better than I think

The faucet drips like passing time
A quiet, self-erasing rhyme

I shake hands with the void
Every morning by the sink
He doesn’t talk, but he listens
Better than I think

“Some days, I don’t want to die.
I just don’t want to be anything.”

Shaking Hands with the Void

I saw the moment shatter
From behind a glass delay
You screamed, but it came underwater
Like a song I couldn’t play

My hands moved slow, like borrowed thought
Like they weren’t even mine
I traced the cracks around the world
But couldn’t cross the line

Say it hurt—
Say I’m here—
I’ve forgotten what to feel

Sympathy, late again
Arriving hours after pain
I nod, I smile, I lie, I stall
But the spark won’t ever catch at all

They call it healing
But I still feel like a screen

I laughed when I should’ve cried
Said “It’s fine,” but meant “I’m lost”
I watch the reel, frame by frame
But I can’t account the cost

Every hug lands out of phase
Like I’m two seconds behind
I echo back the proper words
But they don’t reach my mind

Say I’m brave—
Say I’m strong—
But the charge is always gone

Sympathy, late again
Arriving hours after pain
I nod, I smile, I lie, I stall
But the spark won’t ever catch at all

They call it coping
I call it rewinding

"I was there. I remember being there.
I just... wasn’t in it."

Sympathy Delay

Put this together the other night. Thanks if you give it a listen.

Where Does it End?

I make albums for fictional bands with assistance of AI tools.

New tracks tagged #Post-progressive