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grace elle  Mar 2015
Flatsound
grace elle Mar 2015
I have been listening to Flatsound so much that I think Mitch Welling may have possessed my chest and taught me all of the wrong ways to say I love you.
George Anthony May 2017
it sounds like planes taking flight,
like foreboding,
like a hoard of wasps,
and then it breaks into melody;
it went from storming winds
to a spa reception
meditation:
inhale, exhale

dull these sharp edges,
take me out of my head;
i can see you
laid out on white cotton sheets,
your dark hair fanned
against the pillows on my bed.
no, i don't want to
do anything,
other than lie with you,
feel your warmth and...

i look at you and
tears brim these tired eyes.
insomnia's an artist
painting shadows on my lids,
but you reach out
and brush your fingertips against my cheek;
suddenly i'm alive,
your watercolours vibrant on my skin;
i'm overflowing with emotion
but you make it feel okay
to drown,
to let it in.

you'll never have any idea
of how much i think about you
i think, maybe, i would feel guilty
if i knew how to
but i don't do remorse,
just as you don't do...
well. this.
any of this.
try not to, anyway

things don't always
work out
the way we plan;
but it's okay,
we can make more plans
together, somehow
because you promised me you'd live
and i swore i'd do the same.
bleed of consciousness
circus clown Jul 2014
i used to listen to flatsound's album
scotland, i wish you had stayed
in the passenger seat, back and forth
between home and the place i wanted it to be
where i couldn't ignore the winter
and the dull pulse of abandoned laughter
throughout houses that look like
what i feel like on a bad day

and today was a bad day
i want to travel backwards
to a time i can remember actually trying  
walking the few streets home from school
anticipating telling you how my day went
so you could call me and say,
"i'm happy for you, princess"

i don't try anymore and
it's been a long time since
you have been happy
about anything except
******* me
the title is the last song on the album, i wrote this while it was playing.
Alleigh Peterson Jan 2018
a house is not always a home
i learned that too early
too young to know what family was
because i never
had one
passed from family to family like some kind of disease
and that's when the disease
became
me
i'm sick again
it had been years since my last treatment
in and out of hospitals like a child going to school
i tell people i'm afraid of needles
and they think it's because i've seen what they do to my brother
but it's what they do to me
that makes my heart jump into my throat
and i can't
breathe
is what my nurse tells me
"maybe you won't faint this time"
i want to tell her that i'm scared
but then my terrible mind stops me
"there are people out there with worse problems"
my mind yells at me
just like my father does when he's had enough to drink
but the difference is
at least i
want
to put my hands on my mind
and choke it senseless
tell it to shut up
tell it to go away
go away
it's a problem
"she's a problem" is what my mother says
i've been in therapy since i was four
and my mother says it's because i had
adoption issues
as a child
little does she know
that the adoption issues didn't go away
i'm still four
million years away
from being okay with myself
as i sit here writing this
my parents are at a dinner party
and i am at my own party
with abandonment issues, depression and anxiety as my guests
they throw open the door to my house
not home
and make a mess of me
shamelessly
they tell me things i don't care to hear
my doctors say it's paranoia
schizophrenia, perhaps
i don't listen
i'm good at that
my therapist says i don't listen to things i don't believe
so maybe that's why i haven't heard my parents say
i love you
in years
or maybe it's because they haven't cared enough
to say it.
My day went so well
And so did my birthday the night before
But every great time in my life has ended badly
Every happy moment is only ever so temporary
And I haven't eaten and I feel sick
But I'm not hungry
I just want to curl up and die in my bed
I just wish I could get these thoughts out of my head
I'm so confused
I need some *****
I asked a friend to get me Jack Daniels
Because it's a couple days overdue for birthday depression
And drinking myself to sickly sleep
Shot after shot
I just want to waste away
I just want to sleep forever
I just want to listen to flatsound
And cry
And cry
And cry
And I'm about to cry myself to sleep...
Redshift  May 2014
music
Redshift May 2014
katy perry wasn't far off track
sometimes my emotions feel like plastic bags
drifting in the african dust...
a place i put my feet
one february
years ago

and flatsound tells me to come clean
but i can't
i have nothing to contrast it with
ignorance is my final plea

and i don't even know
what holocene means,
bon iver

but i know
that poetry is just words on different lines
and they're the only ones i seem to write
these days
Ellie Shelley Feb 2016
I wanna sit in the back seat of a car with you
My legs on your lap
My back against the window
Your lips lingering on my neck
Telling me stories by mouthing words on my skin
Fingers pressed so hard into my skin
I expect you to leave bruises for the rest of my life
Sweat lightly beaded on our skin
My hair sticking to my shoulders
Your vest tightly wound between my fingers
I want you to play Flatsound
And tell me about your childhood
I want you to press your secrets into my skin
Till you engrave your story into me
I want you to stare at my flaws
Till you don’t hate me for them
I want you to scream everything you regret
Put your hand on my thigh
And tell me how you feel about me
Wrap your fist around my hair
Put your hand on my neck
Tell me what makes you hurt
Tell me what makes your soul burn
Ashley  May 2016
1/1/16
Ashley May 2016
"it's been this way from the start/i need some rest/i'll go to sleep at a decent time/when i find something worth waking up for"
- "sleep", flatsound

It seems like I only come here whenever my head is swimming - no, floating - in the ocean of thoughts flooding my brain. And yet, the page always seems so daunting. It's like every single time I know I should come to write my feelings on these lines, my boy rejects the effort before it begins. Some part of me, unsurprisingly, enjoys the suffering induced by denying myself the animal instinct that inevitably overpowers me, and I find myself here in the end even if I know it's only a temporary fix.

Even when I don't write, the words come, and I'm not sure why they scare me or why I suffocate them before they have a chance to live. I think endlessly, often drowning in thoughts, feeling the weight pressing down on my shoulders. When I try to write like this, the thoughts are stilted, stale, unoriginal, yet I continue; we continue, even though our very existence is as unoriginal as these words. We go on and on, repetition coded into our bones. All desiring the same things: love, money, power, ***, to be wanted, to be known. We all want to leave a mark, yet we as a whole tread paths worn so well that the bones of the Earth can be seen peering out from beneath our tired, aching feet.

Even worse, we all have something to say, all want to be heard and remembered. I'm astutely aware that my words, my thoughts, my entire being is a shout that sounds like a whisper. We scream our lungs out, thinking we are trees falling in a forest with no one around, when in truth our words and prayers and heartbeats are all minuscule layers of a complex beat. Rather than the bang, we are the whimper, going out without a second thought.

The year 2015 has ended; I swore I'd end it in another journal, but I'm fickle and flighty and I want to start over. I always forget that each "start over" is code for giving up, letting go, closing the door - on what, I'm never sure, but the past never remains gone or forgotten, and I truly wonder why I continue spinning in familiar circles at times like this. I slept through the celebrations and the change in year. Lately, my energy is lacking, and I have little hope that things will change. Any optimism this soul held has vanished again, it seems. I'm not sure I've hit the lows of my past, but this exhaustion is taking more to come back from. The longer I'm left alone with myself, the more I feel my presence fade to the ghost-like state it appears in - flashes of sincerity, importance, solidity, only to become nothing again as the times change.

I wrote a bit online a few days ago, and one line came out that didn't surprise me, per say, but made sense in a way I wasn't consciously aware of: "Still, I can't help but feel that I'm yearning for some place I can never quite reach..." Maybe this is the exhaustion in my being right now? Though I am more happy than any other emotion, this feeling still presses in on me with a fierceness I didn't expect. I'm neither here nor there, and perhaps it's always been like this. My skin has always itched to fin somewhere I belong, somewhere that is home. I am terrified that this may never happen, terrified at the prospect of never truly feeling satisfied in or with my life. The horror of adulthood and the future looks like a city skyline, dark and foreboding despite the deceiving glimmers of life lighting up the windows.

It all comes to this, I think; I cannot know how things will turn out, if I will be happy, if things can change. A million small fears stem to this one, and I can only hope for some meaning, some lasting reason to exist. There are billions of lives, so what makes mine significant? Though this thought runs the risk of making me sound like the rest of foolish humanity, it's impossible not to feel this way. Do I matter at all? I believe in things like fate, but it's difficult to imagine that I have any effect on the paths Earth and humanity both take.

-a.c.
George Anthony May 2019
used to sing along
sleepless, sad boy
flatsound’s sullen symphonies
“i’ll go to sleep at a decent time
when i find something
worth waking up for”

these days i like to close my eyes
just gone ten at night;
wake up with the sunlight
caressing my cheeks
just the way you used to

because even though
us became you and i
you’re still my something
worth waking up for
Etelith  Dec 2017
Puddin
Etelith Dec 2017
Dear Puddin, this is for you. I actually wrote this long time ago, but I just keep adding more and more things I feel about you, cause you're a total enigma and yet there are more for me to explore about you.
Remember the time I told you that I'm really afraid of people leaving although they promise they won't? that's one of the reasons why I only post this now, cause I'm scared that you gonna leave after knowing so much about me. But now, leaving is just unknown and so why not I just cherish and enjoy every moment we have? Be bold they said.

It's strange isn't? Two lonely souls met through the network and who knows you could be someone so important for me? A song reminds me of you, not crywank, not flatsound, not whatever you think of.

I knew this would be love, by Imaginary future

It's funny how we met on the telephone
You and I on the edge of the unknown
Oh, in only a moment's time
I knew my heart was yours and yours was mine
....
There were days when I thought I'd lost you
I read the letter aloud, what could I do?
Now, we're right back where we belong
Don't second guess your heart, it's never wrong.


The day you told me that I made you buzzed a smile in front of your screen and that actually made my heart skipped a beat, who knows I could make someone feel that way? When you told me you're a very emotional person and you've been down the bottom in your life for two years, although with a funny tone, I can still feel you. Imagine how struggle is you for that two years and I'm glad that you actually back on track and I get to meet you after all.

As you wish, here goes the peom for you

The room is dark and quiet,
You sent me a message and it popped up,
lighten up the room together with a cheerful ring of tone.

I smile whenever I heard that,
cause I only set that tone for you,
With my half-open eye,
squinted at my phone screen,
Smiling again.

Show me, James.
Where did you learn the magic from?
The magic that easily put on a smile on me,
The smile that from the bottom of my heart.

Tell me, James.
What did I do to deserve you?
The care you give me to hold on,
The words you say to heal my scars.

Hear me, James.
Just to let you know,
every moment we spent together,
I take it to heart,
these memories deserve a place to stay
they can stay in my heart forever.


I remembered time that
I want to be alone,
cause I thought I was made to be alone,
he came by telling me that you will always be here for me.

Words are not enough to tell you,
How important are you to me,
I will show you

*one day,
Promise.

— The End —