1. |
really good advice
02:54
|
|||
|
i'm dwelling on a casual end.
i got tougher, i gave some recommendations.
you'll be gone, but this won't be a hiatus.
you'll be something to debate until august.
this is a warning. this is the smell of incense.
we were the better half. it's not fair you can say that.
this is a verdict. this is luggage sprawled on the floor.
were you the better half? could a friend say that?
for a holiday month. i was stuck. shooting the shit. playing dumb.
i got time to be, time to stay dumb.
|
||||
2. |
haha yeah lol
02:35
|
|||
|
a saffron capsule, cumbersome, settles at the bottom of my gut.
weather speech, cubicle space, it sure is warm in the middle states.
college grads, cool acumen, are bragging about their codes and jargons.
this floodplain city isn't familiar. i realized at gateway, it's been a semester.
hummingbird prescription under fluorescent lights. on linoleum floors, i sermonize.
am i gonna have to inherit the heat?
i'm making conversation with a carcass on the street.
two decades of a dead president's weight,
i'm panicking in this prairie state.
i don't want to burden you by trying to be genuine.
i don't want to place this witching hour dispute on you.
|
||||
3. |
||||
|
it's always afternoon here, so what's a punk to do when you're informed by power outlet fears and chained by an azure noose?
how can you call this a break if you can't trace the coast? i can't remember all those summer dates of bay boasts and boston boats.
i'm practicing kitsch sadness sleeping on this queen mattress.
i'm deciphering a new diction from a chemtrail alphabet.
detachment feels like competition. i can't stand your college's dialect.
i'll keep pace with the inquiry. former familiars wanna gawk and inspect.
i am soft spoken i am wary. preparing for an eastward trek.
musk perfume, childhood bedroom, blending into white walls.
unamused, felt tip tattoo, a juvenile recall.
gravel route, emblem pursuit, tumbling down the staircase.
image loop, strategically mute, appeased by the commonplace.
i'm sleeping on this twin mattress. another six months on campus.
|
||||
4. |
||||
|
water, discolored, dripping from the rafters.
rust illness pools on the snare head.
adult stillness remains in boyish thread.
we decided to mop and purge afterwards.
cement steps, same old municipal narrative.
you keep the occult in a used jelly jar.
you insult where you think they aren't.
diminishing returns, being inquisitive.
turtleneck spectacle
in imbrued light
aluminum sacrifice
thoroughly skeptical
magenta air aflush and full of fidelity.
please keep the holidays lite.
stress and spice align.
we're all anxious for our geography.
|
||||
5. |
||||
|
cheery season, i survived, examinations and final diatribes.
we feel safer in the middle of the state where you can see 360 degrees rooted in place.
drive me back to the capitol grounds. I want to talk with optimism. I want to hide gold leaf in my mouth. it's an incandescent holiday. i want it brightly lit always, always.
bantering with stem jokes. a nightlife comprise of basement quotes. it's been 50 pages since i've been home. i don't feel pride in somewhere i'm not supposed to own.
winter season, i've never survived party conversation, new year's vibes. it's dangerous in the living room with high school faces, spirit taste test, hideaway in confetti blooms.
drive me back to the creek bed. my hair is brown again and my shoes have lost their tred. it's a celebratory lapse. no judgment, just hiccup mishaps.
|
||||
6. |
everyone is staring
04:27
|
|||
|
i swear we're gonna sweat right out our soles. i cull all the capitols.
once last hurrah on the lounge floor, assured amidst glimmer and uproar.
i'll entrust the festivities to your tactics. i'm tacit, only attentive to neutral fashion.
liqueur stained tiles, junk food nights. this eventide of heavy navy can entice.
it's the middle of december, but you don't need to study.
it's the final saturday, oust yourself from the library.
it's hasn't snowed this season, a blatantly obvious sign,
you can keep stacking theory or you can writhe off the deadlines.
the way i see it, there's three escape routes.
peer into porcelain, clutch a bruised shin, make some smoker friends.
everyone is staring, but nobody knows it.
i try not to sway to avoid candid frames, half-laughing an inaudible phrase.
|
||||
7. |
||||
|
purple lace looming.
a muscle memory.
ungentle courtesy.
catch up instinct.
abash acutely.
pocket of loose leaf.
lactic within me.
steamed milk retreat.
i'm always thinking about earnest people like you.
into the middle of things. all these blithe years I concede. i am not mindful of what i need.
i'm always thinking about milestones and all those embarrassing intervals.
|
||||
8. |
birthday party
03:18
|
|||
|
it's fine to cloy yourself with compliments.
sometimes pining privately is all you can accomplish.
and i know regular things are tiresome.
for the moment, peel the wax from your thumb.
your amity is very generous.
skin tight khakis testing my endurance.
sugars ferment in my chest.
their shoulders, their teeth, impose and impress.
it shouldn't be so curious that a full spin leaves one dispirited. isn't that what's supposed to happen?
it shouldn't be such a rarity that a lack of friendly concern fills me with ease.
i didn't think intimacy would make me helpless.
surprised by this reverie, i've never felt this.
it's fine, acquaint me with the resolute.
tonight even idle chat seems astute.
and i know i shouldn't balk or critique.
i'm too old for doleful doublespeak.
|
||||
9. |
and so you run
01:45
|
|||
|
you coerce me into ripping black jeans, running through half melted snow.
blanch and bold in the dusky cold, nowhere seems like the place to go.
under this bluish shroud, oh we recount, the subtle shift in years.
at the 8th st precipice, there is a resonance, your clarion voice echoes everywhere.
|
||||
10. |
award
05:02
|
|||
|
debased by faint morse tappings and a preconditioned raise of the hand, i find it hard to endure the absolute. i extoll some listed values.
canine imprint on my lower lip, an overwrought project, maybe i'm too comfortable with my biases and maybe that's obvious.
i don't want praise or your smart name.
nose pressed to the binding. trying to find calm in the antique. not too good at keeping still. fixed moments feel like running uphill.
these floorboards aren't up to code. and these queries have been rude. let me drift into the obtuse weeks. fingertips caressing my widow's peak.
i'm straying from the center.
there's no cure for being loud.
everyone wants to feel like goose flesh braille, like provincetown sails, like warm laundry.
everyone wants to feel like march snow melt, like blue pastel, like a letter sent fondly.
my frame is shook by steady tremors
from the laughter of the comely crowd.
|
||||
jasper downey
birthed from rich topsoil
If you like jasper downey, you may also like:
Live In... New York City
by Tex Crick
Australian artist Tex Crick takes a low-key, 70s singer-songwriter approach to his latest collection of songs.
go to album
From Cardiff, Rosehip Teahouse combines the quavering sound of shoegaze with the sugary melodies of indie pop.
go to album
Entirely analog, lush melodic pop with a tender heart from L.A. artist Human Barbie sounds bigger than the bedroom project it is.
go to album
Market, from Melbourne, fuse soul and chillwave on a wonderfully woozy song with rubbery guitars & breathy harmonies.
go to album
These four songs from Melbourne-based Market are low-lit and soothing, soft vocals swaddled in tender guitar lines.
go to album
I see the lines connecting the stars
by Oliver Divone
A whimsical and carefree home recording project explores the outer fringes of math rock, psych, and alternative pop.
go to album
Another Side of The Seams
by The Seams
The Seams' jangly pop is full of lovely melodic twists and elegant turns-of-phrases delineating the quotidian details of love and romance.
go to album
