1. |
Snowline
02:19
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2. |
Colonel's Chair
03:38
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3. |
Roman Numerals
03:58
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Now my voice collapses into hard work and exhaustion
She's strangled by contentedness
I'm no muse either, I don't inspire
I'm not vague enough
I'm not the wisps of femininity that play in the frothy breeze outside the artist's door
Closing a fist around them, they slip like fire-bellied salamanders
He knows he'll never hold the muse, slick and translucent
A lifetime of grabbing at her, hewing away at finding
I am the artist's chair, hard plastic and utility –aren't I?
The one whose screws jiggle loose with his incessant movement
Grabbing for the wisps
Punctuality does not inspire
He writes my immortality in the Roman numerals before the story begins
She was consistent in the chaos that was creation
No one ran me off the artist's road
I saw the exit for stability, inspired only to flip my blinker
Now you want me to walk beside you down those old streets
To abandon my ride
But I'm not wearing the right shoes anymore and it hurts my fucking feet
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4. |
Augusta Dreams
01:41
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5. |
Skyride
03:36
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6. |
Claire in July
03:03
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7. |
Giant Ledge
02:56
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8. |
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9. |
The Drive Home
02:29
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evantr0nic New Jersey
A New Jersey native and lifelong musician seeking to scratch the creative itch and share his work with you.
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