learning logic just a demo thank u 

Menial little flowers redden
Carrier a bee
For time does spin the bloodshot coffee milks within our means

Dahlia, heaven knows what heaven throws, I’m bound to follow ya
Your hands around my throat, flowers that breathe,
The sound of art
This sound of ours

Pulchritudes shooting up for you
Picture keen your bronze engravings in the mud for two, in the mud, two in the mud, for two

Facedown, sobbing hallmarks in the chest of youth, in wishful plottings of affairs in bursting astral cues:
There’s no contouring ‘tween the biting or the vested truth, 
dahlia seeps deep anguish dollops of the best of you

Cloudberry swan, hyperdulia
The sun in the sand
Lend me a hand: amity glands, amity glands, amity glands, amity glands
Amity glands, amity glands, amity glands

“bobby, he’s going to kill me,” 		tomorrow’s almost over		
“shelly, shelly, start over. go real slow”         today i tapped your shoulder


Amity glands, amity glands, amity glands (today i tapped your shoulder), amity glands, 

I’ll come around, come around, come around, to you.
I’ll come around, come around, come around to you. 

You. You. You.       

You. You. You.

amity glands, a home recording

I

(oh wow) 
(oh wow)
(oh wow)
(oh wow)
i wish that i would keep the harley better
all i can fathoms staying in my bed 
a blinking little light: a dime of feathers
some kind of abstract ball of golden this 
i wish that i would keep the harley better 
warm tangents like a diamond, the abyss
a winking little life of coyish flutters
i catch each secret given with a kiss


II

i wish that i would keep the harley better
the things you tell me feel just like a kiss
i wade in you, cosmoscopize your mutters
in waver of your here and there and this
i wish that i would keep the harley better
i wish i was intangible as it
i gloss the shoulders fuming at the weather
i might still ride and risk it all for this

ENGINES demo (stanzas 1 + 2)

three-day benders lair stomachs of love thank u

Yes Baby

an adlibbed yearning from the hospital for an easier existence.
here is my take on hauntology. here is a  place i only visit in dreams. 
so i dream dream dream
of an eastern plain
where 
every ghost will sit with you and understand.

Byzantium (Everybody Gives)

here is my story of decrepit town. here is another vision of a ghost dream.

lilac
has quite the regimen there
of thick black ink
the needle has you squinting

with jasper and his boys
they’re quite the renegade clan
in west checkered jets
there’s warmth inside your questions

da da da da

we pranced there
in old echo park
springdrops from your wise
tredding 
towards the water

oldtown paintbrush
under yellow stars
where hearts are beating hearts are beating hearts are beating wild

i only ever know you with your hair pulled back
and i’m only ever friendly with those westchecker jets
i’m just looking for some ground to clutch that
clutches back

i do believe in cosmic dealings
your heart a home to homely feelings
the flavor of pandora’s passion
couldn’t unhinge these hills of silver 

and all the courtshit feins tradition
auburn woods of snowcapped friction
under the ward of moonlight bummers
reveal my soul in heart of summer 

give a little get a little green up speedhouse 
in spite of such a sour fuck who owns the place
tenderly embalmed hymn calls for shotgun
galvanize as embers on an august waist
westchecker jets have their secrets out yonder 
soulful gall for asking
a soulful gall for asking 
is a shotgun to the face 
shotgun to the face

westchecker jets, a home recording

Here is my ode to ghost trains and worship.

Mastered by Simon Scott

YES BABY

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