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Moths

by Dylan Marx

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1.
Albatross 04:03
tonight im going out again putting off albatross and you are staying home again all is lost holocaust again the funny thing is nothings right strobing lights friday night deep within a submarine white lab coats know what i mean with forceps in the frogs with forceps in their frogs with forceps in their red veins leaking green skin sagging and all i can hear is you still breathing eat saguaro to confuse me all your teeth turn yellow green wiping ants of dignity with a rag what a drag to carry leaves for queens to carry leaves for queens to carry leaves for queen's bed pan leaking her crown shining and all i can hear is you still breathing again
2.
There are holes in the ceiling to let the rain in they wash out the feeling of all the people who come and go all through the night the papers on the stove the words turn to smoke and all the fruits laid out on the table and everything is ready to be painted but holy water makes holy ale i sat down next to a long dead cat and scratched his cold chin waiting for us to breath again those long cool breaths we drew in the fog but then came the ants but holy water makes holy ale and i drink to a forgotten tradition to serve the world and drains laugh not with me or with them for we came alone and we'll leave alone
3.
The Rat 03:08
eek there goes the rat walking along the cabinet and swallowing oil and getting fat and tracking with his pink legs the dirt im sure that sundown comes with your eyes closed you dreaming of hungry clouds there are none of those here just expansive blueish skies and cold grey street signs and flickering white lights for beds to be prepared but you wont be naked elvis in the back of the room but you wont see naked elvis in the back of the room little mary on the headstone lying with her lambs her bones and none of that is english the sound of a leaf crunching behind you when no one is there its every horror movie youve ever seen with you when you sleep
4.
Mary 01:58
mary who lived to be but only one sleeps in the grass beneath the setting sun and every night, moonlight, she bathes loving her is like rain i dropped her in a silver river long before she ever learned to swim and like a fish she flopped and maybe i shouldve jumped in to marys grave 100 years another 100 more caretakers lost the bolt upon the door and not a flower shall be laid on marys grave
5.
Grave 02:23
6.
The Moth 05:30
there are moths in the basement eating there way though the floor ones drawing the nectar from the back of your neck theres honey in the lion bees roar from his stomach theres laughter like needles in the doll all sewn shut there are pins the seat there are blades in the apple there are knives ready to cut your hair there are swords there are fools there's fear, and there's kings theyve hitched us up and left us blind and bound, bouncing in the breeze
7.
8.
The Beating 05:23
This is the slow walk pigeons fly out of my feet i spread seed which they eat and at night when i sleep its on cockroaches who carry my blankets out the window, pink blood skies glowing kitchens, the fallen candle the slow walk the long morning the hopeful smile the sagging chin the scoff, the waved hand the carried trimmed dogs no longer craving flesh the drool is clean i see a dead pigeon and a cockroach leg i kiss the nearest wall i tongue the whitewash its time to rejoice can you sing? I want pleasure I want to open the seam crawl inside and soak in the spine chills i want to mop the floor of the peep show i want all the vibrant stars to be holes in the night sky to a bright burning world behind the black us on top of everything screaming into the loud ocean our words blend with the tide the ocean our blood our veins salty these beating waves driven by the moon pump loud against the fog I want to steal a car and drive it through the desert i want to run out of gas in the middle of the highway and abandon the car i want to hunt with the wolves and drink from cacti i want the sun to turn red and paint the sky in symmetry like the aztecs i want to hold a beating heart in my hand To be so simple to be so godless all the plagues coming one by one when does a body become flesh when does flesh become the earth when does it end and where does it start when does love become a fetish a belly up fish or fish like thing on the lower planks of the pier at the very end of the pier where everyone was fishing it was long dead i went and sat on the bench and it was the same kind of fish or fish like creature but with a small amount of blood on its right side gills and a heaving chest i thought i was about to watch something die the breaths grew shorter until there was one big gasp then nothing for a while but then it started breathing again so i felt that i should do something i flipped it over with a piece of seaweed i was afraid to touch it because it was a foggy morning and i was drinking coffee and i was feeling rather ~Pensive~ it looked like a cross between a fish and a frog so probably a tadpol it looked at me puffed its gils and opened its huge mouth very wide i tried to push it into the water with the piece of seaweed but it wouldnt move i then grabbed the tail and flung it over the side of the pier i watched it fall and tumble and disappear into the blue green it probably died either from the impact bloodloss prolonged suffocation or was eaten by a bigger fish but how could anyone ever really make a difference in such a big cold world but there was nothing behind the curtain except a few wooden bones i moved behind it and hid breathing into the fabric until it was hot and wet i the spider spun my web to the ocean to the rain and just right light and how it caught flies id wrap them up and sip their blood choking on the way down to the shrinking stomach the lifeless grey clumps bouncing in the breeze like the oyster i stayed pink within my shell sinking in the fine sand drowning inthe music of the waves but unlike the oyster i had no pearl was but a quiet clam a projection i never asked for anything i just wanted to sleep dreaming awake i closed the door and sawd you in half your legs were still moving and you waved to the crowd as the tide moved in three bears, three bears, three bears wake up the farmer sleeps as his cattle graze they were his cattle on his land the farmer slept the world needs you to finish something
9.
Trout 06:56
I lay on my bed, shaken by the tortures I had invited in, the dreams forgotten upon waking, the lingering feeling that haunts all day, the moths, in the head and eating their way out, welcomed like the whip, to forget the empty sea, the corrosion of time, an ever dimming circle, like the night after a full moon, like the sun shining behind the smoke of burning trees the moon, each night, loses a sliver, till she is nothing but an empty starless black, the dustless spot where a book or pot once lay, blanketing all who sleep in her thick warm darkness.

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released August 30, 2016

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Dylan Marx California

Moths, Clownfisher, Dylan Marx, The Sandman, Oracle of Light, Purveyor of Goods, Great Overtaker, Stopping by for Soup, Standing on the Corner with a Glass of Water, Dumping it out on the Sidewalk, missed the plants, missed the plant, went back, wrote a postcard, postmarked it, forgot to address it, sitting in a big mail room waiting to be sorted, sort of open to that ... more

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