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by lost coastlines

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about

chronicling sincerity through this weird hyperaccelerated internet thing~


ALL NAME-YOUR-PRICE PROCEEDS GOING TO THE EMANUAEL AME CHURCH FUND www.emanuelamechurch.org

www.thepulpzine.com/charleston-church-shooting-fund/

credits

released June 1, 2015

art by Guilaume Kurkdjian guillaumekurkdjian.com

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lost coastlines Norfolk, Virginia

hothands in a wet blanket

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Track Name: bodiez
we are here
indefinitely
better spent
out of these
hoarse and splintered
pale bodies
that never grow anymore
Track Name: here at the bottom
stretch out one hour parking all day
in my dreams i never pay rent again
live for free on the grassy median
between the big box and the road

can’t exist anymore
between the constant pull of things
but how can i complain at this?


eat a subway sandwich twice a day
use their bathroom for free ad infinitum
and get by ten plus some change
the cheapest way to exist

i write it down in the window
‘did it have to be this way’
but how can i complain at this?
Track Name: the good kind of houses
you are growing up without me
breaking what i started with
every moment i still try to live
in the pine
in extended fields alike
backpack full we’re on our bikes
take a sandwich if you like

this is all you hold inside your head
briefly jotted down
to make sense of tiles, fluorescent lights
prostrate and helpless life
compounded days and nights
impartial braided light

here on rocks
we don’t know anything
here on pavement
we are clean

here on campground, mdma
we don’t feel anything but sorry
about your fall from brown

pacing forward under houses
where the dream yet isn’t dead
clutching at the longest strands of home
to come up fallen out
the buckling manic doubt
longwinded notes about
lying in bed with you

here on rocks
we don’t know anything
here on pavement
we are clean
Track Name: song for carles
they all gave up
finally sold out
monetized what they could
in clicks and left
now baited shit consume us all
with limited critique
no tongue-in-cheek

you gave in everything to believe
that none of these analytics stood for much
now it eats itself
fully commodity
and you've left to breathe

the racing consumption mold
is complete
i can’t relate to these newer things
bb
these times no longer for me
models for everything
Track Name: rutledge somewhere(jan 14)
the dream is, lying in bed
partially undressed again
the dream is, those hundreds
of mile lapses in judgement
when you don’t have much to lose
but you have so much left to lose