1. |
America, Pts. 2 & 3
10:59
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I opened my eyes
and continued to fall
through the dark night
that knew no end.
I choked on dead air
and felt the crushing
weight of my flesh.
I faced death,
exhausted and thin
with twisted arms
pinned behind my back.
I longed for resolve.
I yearned for release:
to be at rest in my body.
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2. |
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Beneath my feet,
the warm black tarmac
unfolded and bent
in ribbons and cracks.
Green and gold once
blossomed in the creases,
but soon, this place was
fucked by scavengers
and left to blanch
in excruciating heat.
These are the things that kill me.
Out in the dark,
the stench of sulfur
hung in the air:
a menacing smog.
Red, white, and blue sparks
fade out in the distance,
but the screeching
echoes of these
flash-bang nightmares
haunt the blistering silence.
These are the things that kill me.
Car alarms and neon signs
blind and stifle my senses.
Engines groaning,
tires screeching,
a bloodcurdling scream
pierces the heart
of my waning sanity.
Even in the stillness
of the hot orange night,
I cannot find rest.
These are the things that kill me.
Every day is somehow
more unsatisfying
and at the same time
more preposterous
than the last.
I see the fire; I see the end.
Unless we confront ourselves
and our history of greed,
oppression, and misogyny,
these are the things that kill me.
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3. |
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4. |
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Beyond the veil,
a fluttering:
I hear your voice;
it speaks to me.
“Look within;
that’s where I’ll be.”
Upon the arch,
a curtain sways.
I long to feel
your soft embrace.
I hold you close;
it’s not too late.
But now, you’re gone,
and we are left:
a world astray,
we hold our breath.
I look within;
I pound my chest.
But don’t you know
there is no end;
there’s no goodbye
for us, my friend.
Be well until
we meet again.
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5. |
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One day, I will no longer exist,
unfettered by this temporal rind.
But until then, I will seek
to entwine yours and mine.
One day, I will no longer insist,
untethered from spaces and time.
But until then, I will seek
to align body and mind.
One day, I will no longer take shape
but forfeit to this mortal plight,
fracturing spirit and flesh in flight.
One day, I will no longer hold weight
but surrender myself and ignite,
dissolving these hollow bones in light.
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6. |
Clarity and Antigravity
04:04
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We’ll rise as one; we’ll rise again.
Our hurt and doubt will face its end.
Our eyes will be wet with clarity.
Our bodies will float in antigravity.
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7. |
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But don’t you know
that we cannot erase
what we’ve done?
Pain and loss
are all that remain.
Our end has begun.
We spiraled out;
we fucked ourselves.
Mark these words:
forgive no one.
Cast your blame.
Play your game.
Pierce your tongue.
Bear your shame.
How can we move on
unless we change
our heinous hearts?
Cast into searing flames,
this monstrous hate
could burst apart.
Ghostly visions
remain
of these men
crushing down:
with their pale hands
pressed on our mouths,
their calloused palms
muffle the shouts.
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8. |
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Close your eyes,
and see my face.
I am all around you.
Be with me:
blood and flesh,
skin and bone.
Bare your soul,
and penetrate.
Be here in this moment.
We are one
ever more.
I am you.
Clutch your wrist,
and feel my blood,
red with admiration.
I am there
in your smile:
a reflection.
Cling to hope,
and cast off doubt.
We are everlasting.
We will find
in our lives
a stillness.
. . . . . . . . .
I stumbled through the night.
I trembled with fury.
I cried out violently.
I suffocated.
I coughed and wretched.
I searched and fumbled.
I cracked and ached.
I fractured.
But don’t you know
that we can’t change the past?
And I cannot forget
all the pain
and the loss I’ve suffered.
But what’s the use of
trying to pretend
I’ll be forgiven
when alone,
I go to my deepest grave?
I sat idle in a concrete prison.
I wilted in excruciating heat.
I surrendered to a searing grief.
I pounded a clenched fist on linen.
I lost myself in blistering sorrow.
I forgot how to remain on steady ground.
I tumbled through a broken window.
I bent and crumpled on the asphalt.
But don’t you know
that we can’t change the past?
And I cannot accept
or persist through
my grievous failure.
But what’s the use of
trying to pretend
I’ll be remembered
when alone,
I go to my deepest grave?
I stared out my back window.
I prayed to the God of Capricorn.
I conjured a simmering strength.
I steeled myself for crushing reckoning.
I bellowed into blinding darkness.
I gazed into uninhabited emptiness.
But the stars only stared back
unblinking and indifferent.
But don’t you know
that we can’t change the past?
And all of these ghosts
will follow us into our deepest graves.
But what’s the use of
trying to pretend
we’re someone else?
Lean into this,
and dissolve in death.
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Carlo dell'Aquila Kansas City, Missouri
Uniting once again, Dylan C. Beck and Danilo Uomo are Carlo dell'Aquila.
Conceived
originally as a spiritual successor to late-era Talk Talk, Carlo dell'Aquila combines the haunting lyricism of Sufjan Stevens with the swirling dream pop of the Antlers and cosmic mysticism of the Microphones; the result is a sound that demands to be heard.
... more
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