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I need you and me
Mutually assured degenaration
I need
I need
I need
I need
I need you and me
Mutually assured degeneration
You are becoming my
Fall from grace fall from grace
Beg Plead
Dont leave dont leave
Through split tongue these words bleed
Beg Plead
Dont leave dont leave
The lies that you still weave
I need you and me
Mutually assured degeneration
Mutually assured degeneration
I need you and me
Mutually assured degeneration
Mutually assured degeneration
I need you and me
Mutually assured degeneration
You are becoming my
Fall from grace fall from grace
Grasping Pining
I need your decadence
You make me desperate
Grasping Pining
I need your decadence
You make me desperate
Grasping Pining
I hate your decadence
You make me desperate
Grasping Pining
I hate your decadence
You make me desperate
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from original track, releases on "Vol. III.C: Everything Was Possible And Nothing Was True":
Ever since I learned how to want, I have vomit black smoke
It pours from my mouth and out my skin, and it turns my teeth to tar
It is choking my home and earth. I’m in love with the taste
The air is no longer as comforting without a hint of carbon
My smoke has filled every crevice. It is the grass, and the rivers, and the bricks with which we build
I was listening to the news today. A man died of carbon monoxide poisoning. He was 43 and had two cars and a house built on a lake - muddy, and shallow. The last taste in his mouth was of iron. First responders found his body 86 hours later, bloated and floating in the water, but the electric company refused to take responsibility for his death and repossessed the remains of his home
There is no life without smoke. It is desire, and right, and filth. We breathe impurity with prejudice
Ever since we learned how to want, we have vomit black smoke. Our walls are stained; wood scorched
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If I carved a jagged hole above my breast and tore out my bleeding heart would you do the same or see it as a burden that I forced you to carry? Would you hear my name for its intent: a memorial in the absence of her burial? Her presence at my private funeral. At the end of the day I need to know if you would still let my light shine on your aging face. Or would you steal yourself away to find a place where I can’t make you glad, where the skies are always grey? If I carved a jagged hole above my breast and tore the sun from my chest would you still accept my light or would you steal yourself away? Would you find a place my love could not reach? Sheltering yourself from my light. Where the skies are always grey.
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6. |
Darya Snide - Grace
02:36
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It’s a tightrope show of my own design. To walk the cable of this metal twine. Pushing down, I can taste the iron on my tongue. A weekly ritual of self-harm medication. A weekly ritual of self-harm agitation. A blessing in a curse. Tremored hands in preparation. With every scab I peel back brings me closer to my little death. Then builds to a crescendo of screeching. An ensemble of nails pushing song out of slate. A pull then push.
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7. |
Stalkers - Lee Majors
04:16
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Ameonna - izanami
09:48
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she asked for 1000 corpses; i was meant to be with her, i heard her voice. thirteen, my body mangled. searching the floor for pages for last words. i glimpse her rotting eyes, and i drink the intoxication of her hollow sockets. abandonment so cruel, she became death itself. perhaps there is an evil even greater than me. why can’t she understand we whose hearts are buried do not deserve love?
she visits when the candle burns low, every few years but now more often. i dont ask her to leave, i just need to bathe in her gnawed flesh for just a minute. i turn my back when i get my fix. she doesnt mind, she knows one day i will be hers forever.
she asks for more, and i give willingly. atop a ladder, surrounded by lonely walls. my eyes roll back as she tightens her rope, salivating for the taste of freedom. my face closer to hers than ever before. smell of her putrid breath numbs my sorrow.
silhouette, in the corner. she is here every night now. caressed by brittle hands. turgid whispers blurring together. she is patient, for i am not her toughest hunt. she is patient, for i have eaten at her hearth.
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jet planes going the opposite way
contrails cut the sky, the only trace you left in your wake
get high, just killing some time
the ceiling softens and fades, a steady stream to get through the night
can't let you down if you take nothing from me
i know i'll never be the girl you need
now all that's left is a town split in two
and a cut quartz reminder to love myself as much as you do
it came to me in a dream waking up from surgery
i'm only really as alone as i want to be
from the waterfall to the curtain call, all in all it's been worth it
it's no one's fault but i'm giving up
cause now i know i can't love you enough for the both of us
in your arms i took my armor off
turned my volume up, believed i was enough
but just because we were happy once
don't mean we should get stuck in a life spent wondering
i hope you find someone who can love you better
i know i'm loved cause i feel loved
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my heart sinks as it rises from the haze
the twisted metal skyline built on blood and grief
wasteland of greed and despair
sacrifice my body to the tumor that is our god
death is not enough
forced to sell every precious moment
while kissing the hand that chokes us
no reason left to live but to make you suffer
you’ve lined your pockets with my last ounce of joy
we all know you’re to blame and we know where you fucking sleep
death is not enough
i’ll take a pound of flesh
for every life you stole from us
i will not be the canary
in the capitalist soul mine
if you want to exterminate me
then you will be the first to die
defenestrated from the 100th story penthouse
body splattered on the concrete
an effigy to the rotten fabric of this living hell
death is not enough
strapped down and forced to endure
the horrors you inflicted on us
eyes pried open, you will watch
your rich fucking friends torn limb from limb
force fed, the corpses of pigs
choke on your fucking vomit
you’re the one who wanted it all
and you’ve bitten off more than you can chew
CEO of being fucking dead
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“And on your deathbed
You inexplicably said
‘The sun is masking the clouds’”
He gracefully unlocks the door
And we wade across the threshold
As six black eyes bore into mine
He pacifies the animal
A cursory glance o’er my back
Reveals the light receding
And at the first of nine sharp ivory gates
My final thought in crystal:
“And I have become the drought”
Oh, the indistinct discord
Oh, the crux of sound abhorred
The sun is masking the clouds
And I have become the drought
The sun is masking the clouds
And I have become the drought
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fog has taken everything. no words left to speak of nothingness, just an empty drone played on repeat. no visibility, panic sets in as claustrophobia consumes me. iridescent clouds, reflecting my hollowness back at me. no memories from the life before, the joy was hallucination from the fumes seeping into my mouth. charting new frontiers of desolation. you will all forget me here. no vultures to pick apart my bones, when i throw my wretched body where light will never reach. my listless face preserved by the bitter nitrogen. your knives cant pierce the farthest reaches of glaciation. you cannot kill what vanishes into the mist. you wont remember me when your mind goes blank. please dont save me. please dont follow me in. please dont remember me. you will be devoured.
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19. |
Nu House Studios Massachusetts
A trans-owned recording studio dedicated to providing a safe space for queer musicians to create heavy
riffs.
This profile hosts a compilation of artists we've worked with and our merch store with shirts, the proceeds from which are collected into a fund to help trans musicians offset costs they could not regularly afford to work with us.
Donate directly: ko-fi.com/nuhousestudios
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