the mists have returned
to this ancient wood
what a time to light up
a cigarette or two
and pretend like nothing's changed
and nothing ever changes
make myself believe
that on the filter i don't taste her lips
and in the mist her eyes
glancing back and forth
her lips around my cigarette
her eyes around my secret sorrow
and my body
and everything i ever was
in the woods i am collapsing
my body twitches
and i decompose
the nicotine has done me in
i swear it was the nicotine
i swear

the singer's gone,
he's killed himself
did you hear?
was it ambition?
or was it the great ol' gloom
that did him in?
the songs appear again
they travel in the wind
and i can hear the birds still singing
that mellow tune
wind plays the harp
my heart beat drums
it comes together in the end
the singer lives

                                                                                             the singer lives

is that your voice,
way over hill and dale,
or are those sirens again
are these tears,
that wet my sunken cheeks,
or is that rain,
too embarrassed to pour
is that the redness of your cheeks
and the freckles,
little stardust,
or is it the sky, blushing,
and the stars come out to haunt

sometimes i cannot fully comprehend loss
until i look back
and there is no one at the window
waving

tell me something certain
put a period or bullet at the end
do not slowly dissappear
as if fading into mist
stab me, shoot me,
slice open my throat
bury me in sand
and wait for waves to crush my bones
i cannot see your texts
grow ever infrequent
and their drying up
like tomatoes on a windowsil
**** me **** me **** me
and all the air we breathed
between ourselves
i plead you do not disappear

i just want someone
to hug me and to kiss me
and hold me in your tight embrace
right in the middle of the street
between falling autumn leaves
without months of yearning
and sleepless nights in agony
or at least a cat
that would also be quite good
preferribly orange

my body belongs
to the highest bidder,
i have given up

i dare not grasp the thorn
yet i still crave your touch
is it worth to sacrifice my blood
for an echo of your warmth?

my brand new shoes
have opened up wounds in my heels
maybe they just never healed
my white socks drenched in blood
i limp across the street
and collapse on cement

i am so weak
my knees ache
and my heart trembles
and it is so **** cold
i walk day by day
and i talk and i laugh
but my mind remains
in a different place
in that room in that bed
where we were
where we lay
and it makes me wish i could cry
but i shed all my tears
in two thousand and twenty two
so now there is nothing left
but to succumb to madness
there is nothing left
but to endure

i guess this is what i get
for putting my life
in another pair of hands

she was forged
by the songs of joanna newsom
she said:
"no one ever talks to me quite like her"
and i understand
and i see the beauty of her words
reflecting in her sea-glass eyes
she stands
in the city square of some polish town
she got here by train
she carries a bag like a woods witch
with literature for more intelligent folk than me
and she wears a smile
for more deserving folk than me

you are a suicide
though rather sweet and loving
and welcoming
like no thing ever was
the supple buds of blooming orchids
the running river and its tender wave
a lover's letter burned to ash and fading ember
the end of things and rising of a lesser sun
loving, feeling, hearing soft silences in dark
and empty rooms and hallways,
sleeping, dreaming, never-ending,
a looming shadow and a minute gleaming shine
oh sing a song and borrow time
to dance and rain and love forever
get wet and change your clothes and love forevermore
to become a thing much greater than the mass
a single blade of grass, proud and tall among the seas
it is certainly not hope but fate, believe it
the simple beauty of how hands fit into one other
it's all within you
reach out into the burning evening sky and seek
its fire's warmth and fullness of a loving heart
we are born of flesh and blood
but there are stars that rest within the veins and lungs and eyes
that never shut
they sleep, caress your aching skin
your flesh and blood, heavenly sent,
believe it.
and when you fall and sink into the bedsheets
hear the song and see the dream
of mammoths in their endless, breathing steppe
and I will sink with you and never grasp for air
for all I need to breathe is here with you,
believe it.
you are a living crimson love
a string, a thread, a tapestry,
coursing through the veins of man
since first his eyes met fire,
believe it.
you are a breath of life
into a lifeless body,
adorned in moss and fungal growths
where frogs and snails dream pleasant things
and the echo of the wooly mammoth
and the steppe now buried long in time
believe it.
you are a pagan oak that stands so proud
and my body rests between your holy roots
bathed in the warmth of your canopy of leaves
and I drink your sap and sing the songs
of birds that sleep inside your lungs
and all is good
believe it.
you are a single life
so bountiful and pleasant to the heart
that I believe in life eternal
and wish it to be so
whenever you stand before me
your presence always felt
in the blushing of the sky
and in the tears it sheds
believe it.
believe it, for it so.

we are surrounded by columns of cement
each tied with electrical lines
that speak in ancient tongues
and beneath us, there are flowing cables
passing between roots and hyphae
they chant our names

bless the wind that brings you a sickness
he only wishes to bring you a smell and a taste
of faraway lands and of faraway times
he wishes not to bring you this dread hiemal curse
only caress and embrace passers-by on his unending route
it is of love, not of hate that the wind makes it so
do not fault him, but bless him
the wind and his curse,
and love him for love is the only thing true
bless him, the traveler, leave a song in his current
and a kiss in his unending route
love and bless the wind that brings you such fine things as these
love and bless the wind and forgive his disease

Bequeath upon me, the harrows of night,
Let moonlight bring warmth to my eyes,
My callouses soft to your touch and your voice,
Let me rest in the bed of your heart.

O sorrows that come, in the leaving of sun,
Dissipate in your presence, return back to ash,
And the shade, come upon me, turns into water,
And the oil in my veins returns back to blood.

Bequeath upon me, your eyes' loving embrace,
And I swear to turn blind to your unloving heart,
I shall rest in your roots and bathe in your tar,
Condemn and absolve me in the night that we lay.

O ember brings fire, that comes with the moon,
Let it burn, let it rage, let it ravage these fields,
With a primitive passion, for it is all that remains,
In the cold and the dark, before coming of day.

Bequeath upon me, a kiss that will bring
Love and destruction to my feeble skin
It is time to regress and collapse in the dust
Let the sea wash over our future that never was.

Is it not heaven that walks
In slender legs like cherry stems
And hair of chestnut brown,
That turns near crimson
In embrace of evening light,
And wistful mountain lakes
That slumber in her wistful eyes,
And tender mornings,
That rest upon her tender tongue.
She speaks in riddles to my mind
And in song to my waning heart
She enthralls, condemns, rejuvenates
She breaks me open, tears my lungs
And fills them up with honey sweet.
As I awake once more in dark
There is a light unfading
Right underneath my eyes.
Walk bravely in my dreams
And be not afraid to spend the night
It's warm out here
And it shall be warmer still with you
Oh heaven,
Oh lilac gentle, heavenly sent.