MOTH / AMYGDALA (feat. The Rotten Fruit)

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Lost, Long Gone, Forgotten Records

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Hope breeds us
Not another infancy, but a newly conceived train of thought
With time-numbing chemical respondents
To embody the formers
& escort no Yawp into one's meditative Logotherapy
Like watching a mammal burrow into the ground
While the Doppler radar broadcasts the redder tints
It makes us come on
Lubomyr Melnyk playing over the low-bubbling of the humidifier
Hues of dusk appearing like Krakatoa's "sky-theater"
Sending ourselves through calendar with the perspective
Of a moth fluttering in an amygdala
& pensive stroke outbursts on default like talon-defensed buttresses
It makes us come on
It is a choice to behave
Like syrup pourer
Or cadaver-like catatonic
The goddamn screens—haven't you heard of "night mode"
Remember the cognitive mode of Tesla
& how Solitude was Praised by such predecessors
The Solitude in which I can curate & communicate these words to you
Through electrical currents rushing between decibels
& some utility company keeping track of kilowatts in the meters
The desk lamp is on
& I am questioning
If can provide enough
Throughout this

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