emblems and embers

walden freeman

i was right next to you when you called in mayday; the disaster was looming and the storm was young. emblems and embers were glowing in rooms with trick ceilings. i woke up early to solder shut the doors that would seal the caves that would cave in anyway. you could sleep in the fridge. i could occupy the oven and we'd even out our temperaments. spines like snakes curve, charmed at the songs that make the cool kids dance. the scene is changing, scenery arrives. but i fell for your trick ceiling. from the second floor down to my dusty, injured death. i waited and waited for the sky to fill up with lights; and instananeous day. flicker on and off, nothing happens, no angels arrive. welcome home.

chadwick

walden freeman wrote:

i was right next to you when you called in mayday; the disaster was looming and the storm was young. emblems and embers were glowing in rooms with trick ceilings. i woke up early to solder shut the doors that would seal the caves that would cave in anyway. you could sleep in the fridge. i could occupy the oven and we'd even out our temperaments. spines like snakes curve, charmed at the songs that make the cool kids dance. the scene is changing, scenery arrives. but i fell for your trick ceiling. from the second floor down to my dusty, injured death. i waited and waited for the sky to fill up with lights; and instananeous day. flicker on and off, nothing happens, no angels arrive. welcome home.

within home i become walls and distant icebergs of a melting sea.
a stereo hums simpicity, the song of false ceilings and trickery tongue lyrics
which speak of old papered moths with neon eyes. these are my friends of winged mystical dreams and silence.

chadwick

walden freeman wrote:

i was right next to you when you called in mayday; the disaster was looming and the storm was young. emblems and embers were glowing in rooms with trick ceilings. i woke up early to solder shut the doors that would seal the caves that would cave in anyway. you could sleep in the fridge. i could occupy the oven and we'd even out our temperaments. spines like snakes curve, charmed at the songs that make the cool kids dance. the scene is changing, scenery arrives. but i fell for your trick ceiling. from the second floor down to my dusty, injured death. i waited and waited for the sky to fill up with lights; and instananeous day. flicker on and off, nothing happens, no angels arrive. welcome home.

within home i become walls and distant icebergs of a melting sea.
a stereo hums simpicity, the song of false ceilings and trickery tongue lyrics
which speak of old papered moths with neon eyes. these are my friends of winged mystical dreams and silence....

walden freeman

i watch on as you waltz through varying levels of hell
with a vendetta, no arms but eyes turned into spheres
sparking and picking up radio signals from other religions'
destinations for evil souls, just to hammer in that this is all
in fact one giant dream that deities and dieticians could sweat off
in mere days, one great leap after one miniscule step after another

quilts unraveling so quickly that winter almost sympathyzes
with our plight to take what we've learned and build
a new set of churches with organs that are more than internal
but self-sufficient and working together to keep our religion
alive, while various demons and tortured souls feign wings
and fall dramatically through one awning after another