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small towns.

by Crisis Sigil

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1.
weapon. 01:10
i was made into a weapon in your vision impairing defenses look what i did to you how could i? how could i? how could you?
2.
lung. 00:57
am i breathing the same air the feeling identical so far away poisoning corrupting everything that i have built here safety fear can i ever get away from the memories? can i get out please am i stuck in this terrible mundanity gentle horror nightmare everything falls away horrible mundanity encroaching i can taste the air from the past on my tongue those years: the dust in my lungs
3.
home. 01:20
it devours all, it is everything i can hear the cycle, it is deafening small towns enveloping can you see it too? burnt through i can't look away i can't look away it finds you. it is everything i can hear the cycle, it is deafening i can't look away can you see it too? burnt through obsession contorsion compulsion obsession obsession obsession you can't escape the cycle
4.
decay. 01:05
was there another life? was there another way? buried deep inside decay nausea i can't remember what i am i can't stand euphoria my soul is melted sand was there another life? was there another way? buried deep inside decay shelter compassion unform me scatter my heart like radiation holy ground concatenation is there anything at all glistening silence
5.
shape. 02:02
disconnect no evidence disconnect repent disconnect the dream recedes it's not real i swear it never happened to me but i can see the shape it left inside my brain i can't explain it i don't know who to blame the reticence remains the hesitation heals i can't feel i can't feel disconnect no evidence disconnect repent burnt glass and permanence of fear weak electricity no tears the asphalt ripples and reveals short-circuit neurons i can't feel but i can see the shape it left inside my brain i can't explain it i don't know who to blame the reticence remains the hesitation heals i can't feel i can't feel
6.
light. 02:07
street lamp on the corner burnt into the sense of place layout of apartment building flowing through the veins of years every particle means something why can't it just mean nothing is there a way to simplify? why am i always running? every part of this town is far too real please let me go, please let me heal what is possible? oh god, what is possible? held together by tungsten lights shadows collect in the shape of a life summer nights, swollen eyes i wish i could dream i wish i could cry i wish i could cry every particle means something why can't it just mean nothing is there a way to simplify? why am i always running? every street is far too real please let me go, please let me heal what is possible? oh god, what is possible? what is possible? what is possible? i see too much
7.
small towns. 02:28
i can't tell my dreams apart from my nightmares home or hell was there a time when i was aware? don't move; stay motionless and just stare down the memory don't come any closer stay right there don't move is there a way is there a way to let go? without forgiving somehow? without forgetting the shape of the hole? inside this place escape is all we know run away condemn the memory of what we call our homes all the ways we were failed made invisible now as the sun descends over the streets of small towns is there something inside me that needs this? i don't know do i secretly deserve it? is there a part of me that knows what happened? why am i so sure i'm just dramatic? i can't feel human souls, she thinks, are absences. a hole torn into the being of every person, each a different shape. sometimes the edges line up with someone else's wound, and briefly, there is the illusion of the absence being filled in again. occasionally the jagged corners lock together so tightly that this illusion can sustain itself for a very long time - but ultimately, she knows, the emptiness remains. she walks her familiar street in the haze of early morning, keeping something secret inside her chest: a tiny jewel, the size of an insect, a quiet understanding that everything from here on out is unknown.
8.
away. 02:07
today escape. she packs her bags so long waiting for this day object permanence synthetic spirit hers is finally sent away we are made of broken parts thrown away brand new shape away brand new shape away.

about

a short story about small towns.

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released August 17, 2020

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Ada Rook Toronto, Ontario

im rook from black dresses

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