1. |
I'm Not Nervous
03:55
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20 stairs, they seem so quiet now. The hall light never works, but the cylinders turn and let me through somehow. And it’s a short way to the rack above the fridge, where the least of all my confidence lives. Just let me fall apart anywhere. I’m not nervous, I’m just resting my eyes, ‘cause I’ve had trouble sleeping. I’m not nervous, but my jaw’s getting tight, ` Some days I’m sure there must be a reason why I check the locks ten times a night, no less than three or four. But just as much I wonder if the slow hand that’s spinning under me is the sum of all my value anymore. You wrote me a note some time ago, it said “where are you going, and what does it mean to you? You’ve got so many open doors, it’s true. But you’re waiting; you want someone else to choose.” Just let me fall apart anywhere.
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2. |
Navy Blue
04:02
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It’s a long drive. I’m breathing in a little piece of fire now, and the fear pours out my lungs. As it danced back in the traffic lights you told me, “that’s not how it’s supposed to be,” ‘cause you’ve seen it. That navy blue, that stone in you never was the cold part; it’s the shards it leaves behind. And tossing that spark in the street, I start to see if I don’t think of something then we’re gonna find a sharper one in me. Somewhere in between burning down most everything and falling back asleep. So when I tell you how the pieces fall apart, I cover up my mouth ‘cause I’m not quite myself. Brushing over navy blue across your heart, I cover up my mouth ‘cause I’m not quite myself. Sure it’s overcast, and we never mind the indoors either way. It’s just the way they stay. But in that spotted glass, I count the handprints and I can’t stop seeing claw marks. They remind me I’m not wild like I used to be. So if crystals still can heal, tell me how. Can you show me? If I’m just tying stones together, help me out. Can you show me? ‘Cause I keep finding something sharp but don’t know how to make it stop, so can you show me? Can you help me figure out?
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3. |
700 Meters
04:33
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700 meters in a straight line, at 90 degrees. Two yards from the edge of the water, and I can’t stop staring at my feet. You pose with your arms out. You’re waiting for me, adjusting the lens on your polaroid, trying to prove I’m not dizzy or possibly tumbling, top heavy after a gentle breeze pushes with just enough effort that I can imagine it’s not something inside of me. I heard that long fall calling again; every time I know better but fear for the day that I can’t. 700 meters in a straight line, at 90 degrees, and it’s all that I’m thinking about with the fort at Dun Aonghasa behind me. My hands on the stone wall, looking out far below. And just as you press in the shutter I can feel when I start to let go. I heard that long fall calling again; every time I take comfort in knowing it scares me to death. 700 meters in a straight line, from 1000 B.C. I’ll make memories here with my love, and I’m leaving the ocean behind me.
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4. |
Thawing Out
03:59
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Autumn windows, frosted up, keep my senses and my conscience on. You were the only thing in a crowded hall. You were the only thing I could see at all. December outside, the air is ice. It never snows this early, except tonight. Ask me anything, I need to know. I feel your voice burn through the cold, but does it glow? It took a lifespan for me to figure out that I can’t swim when the snow is falling down. You’re holding my hand, to remind me I’m not floating. But if you want, then we’ll get there somehow. ‘Cause I’m thawing out beside you now. I’m thawing out, not counting down. I buried seasons of bad decisions all at once, the way that only February covers up. Sat beside you and we passed the winter by, and when it melted there was only you and I.
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5. |
Pale Blue Dot
04:58
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You told me once that I was a bomb; that I’ve got the choice to move all this rock I’m standing on. It’s a lot out here in this vacuum. But if I split this place in two, then how far will it send you? I don’t know, all I need now is a light. I don’t know, but it seems like good advice. You told me once that I was a moon; just a lonely piece of rock for something else to reflect through. But what’s a satellite to do? I may only orbit you, but you orbit something too. I don’t know what you’ll see when we collide. I don’t know, but I’m taking your advice. I told you once that you were a star; the brightest thing for light years, proving just how small we are. But I don’t mind, ‘cause my sky is bright for now. I don’t mind, I’m just glad that you’re around. I won’t mind; I won’t kick, won’t make a sound. I won’t mind when they put me in the ground, ‘cause if a blink of an eye is all we’ve got, I’m glad that we blink in time.
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6. |
I Brought You A Blanket
04:12
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I knew you were going. I think you did, too. Just wanted a few more days to talk to you. To say that we’ll be here, and that it’s alright. At least it’s a beautiful morning outside. The first thing of many I couldn’t accept, like watching our father clutch you tight to his chest. But I brought you a blanket, hardly anything else. I brought you a blanket, I just hope that it helps. Was the sun in your eyes? I prayed you’d wake up outside, in the summer for your longest rest in all of that light. With assorted goodbyes, we prayed our arms would guide you, that they’d carry you so gently out into that good night. We just needed more time. So I started drinking. That was always the plan. It didn’t have to help, it didn’t have to end. I still see the office lights. I’m still holding your hand, setting you free in pieces at a time again. But I brought you a blanket, hardly anything else. I brought you a blanket, still remember the smell. I can’t stop staring at the spaces, all the pictures we would hang to make memorials forever, now I’m still running away. Packed your memories up in tupperware, I’m just trying to forget. Now I keep looking for the fragments, but I don’t know where they’ve been. I brought you a blanket, hardly anything else. I brought you a blanket, turned to ashes and silt.
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Floorbird Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
1% floor, 1% bird, 98% hot gas.
Eric, Kevin, Drew, and Tom. We're floorbird.
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