Oh, your drink was poisoned
And oh, your dream was buried in the Tomb of Left Sailors and Lipograms
I retraced my steps
The Solar Agent quarantined the third floor room
Away from the all-too-clever consonance
And several times, I wondered what the cogent states eclipsed
The wire-frame mechanics mixing militant and occupied
The Greek-slate polis, blue-stained guise away
And I’m away
Away on photosynthetic machines
An arclength of light licks the air with a buzz
Like the theodicy of an Ethical Dust
And forest fights a false or pseudo penumbra
A farce that flies ahead into the crisis
Release spores that on sunset rose
And the saboteur’s skin scrawled in pellucid tomes
Containing the words of the Fiction Caste
Cycle back through the atmosphere last
Let’s pretend we’re in an article
Let’s pretend I’m not fucked
Perhapsy’s latest—which is also available on translucent cyan vinyl—draws from shoegaze & dreampop, and tells a wrenching true story. Bandcamp New & Notable Dec 1, 2018