pock-faced and intimate,
this woman is fucking beautiful.
titanium teeth and brittle smile,
flaked skin drawing a portrait of the past,
and everyone I know is dying.
was I reluctant to just say what I was thinking?
a forgotten time when I would say what I was thinking;
posture deflates the boldness that I am,
entrenched in resentment.
take each breath for granted,
in a world where my odds are slanted.
on horses dying in their stables:
how many martyrs in a single year?
when rust is rust it's youth displaced.
vague changes in policy,
where's the polling place in a police state?
a horse faints in its stable,
fingers point to the moon.
keep the light dim so moss may grow
over my discontent.
released December 27, 2015
recorded november 2015 by will mellor at grandma's ghost
tim keating - bass
jason jenigen - drums/vocals
russell brown - guitar/vocals
stephen patrick dawson - guitar/vocals
all rights reserved