It’s close to midnight and something evil’s lurking in the dark Under the moonlight, you see a sight that almost stops your heart You try to scream but terror takes the sound before you make it You start to freeze as horror looks you right between the eyes You’re paralyzed
So this is a musical idea that’s been rolling around in my head. I played it on the piano originally, but I’m way too lazy to record more real instruments than absolutely necessary. I’d rather generate each individual sound event manually. Much easier.
The lyrics are absurd. I’ve decided they were meant to be that way.
You are now the other guy. Your name is SESNEN AVERSE. You have many and diverse INTERESTS. You ENJOY MATH AND PHILOSOPHY and pursue both LANGUOROUSLY. You check MSPAINTADVENTURES with a regularity USUALLY RESERVED FOR BREATHING. You have STRONG OPINIONS ABOUT SOCIETAL EQUALITY which may or may not have something to do with your TERRIBLY LOW PLACE IN THE HEMOSPECTRUM. Your LUSUS is HEAVILY INTO TROLL JEGUS, which both BORES AND EMBARRASSES YOU. Your Fetch Modus is DICTIONARY and you have your Strife Specibus allocated to the CRUCIFIXKIND Kind Abstratus. Your mythological role is Acolyte of Doom, which ANNOYS YOU TO NO END.
Your trolltag is perniciousNumeracy. =/i++-r-d +hroughou+ your +-*+ ar- ari+hm-+ic symbo/s.
Your heart is a twisted poem, or a fine, dry wine, so cold, so pretty in the glass, so haughtily vile on the tongue. My love is a mistake- a bear, her foot entrapped in steel, a moth with her head in a net. My love is like chains- more to the point, shoelaces tied to each other: my haste dooms my escape.
I. i set my clay hands in the sun to bake and my clay body froze i watched the years with marble eyes the seasons in their turn they built cities where I stood and still my joints were petrified they burned cities to my feet and still was i petrified their young carved tracks in my side and their old lay by me to die and by and by my hands crumbled to dust
We cut our names into the flesh of trees, mementos of our long-lost lovers. We lust for permanence. We cut and paste our souls to collage: a scrapbooker’s fingers, pressed betwixt pages, a daisy, a bluebell, and red metacarpals. We make our eyes teary for lack of water, here between us and the printed page. We commit suicide like a lepidopterist commits murder, pins to our feathers to the page. We sing our names in silent chorus, scream them at passersby, whisper them to clenched fists.
Your eyes are dark and small as shadows, your skin rough with time. Your smile makes me shiver. I feel the strength of your presence, the weight of your bones. Collar me so I can remember always what you have been.
Sign your name or a cross in my darkest places; look there to see where my writing precedes you. Follow veins, then, North to my heart, see where I am bleeding where your pen has cut it; see how it collapses at the touch of you.