Die for ArtI am cupped in the glitter and glitch this landscape,
effulgent with twines of evening this city is built on the old
ritualson people carrying relics in their palms.old eyes, old
words- cracked thumbs, copper faces pieced together in neon
green.
we are viscous in our ruinwe will not bury ourselves to partake
of each other like fruit and meat under a gritty light bulb bobbing
like a star
your marionettes, your bansheesyour lauded Baroque artistry and
your amber regicideyour moon shriveled soliloquyyour ancient
solidity, enmeshed in opaque mirth the last act in the theatre of
the absurdyou are Deadulus-the prelude of glitch and form
fingerless dolls, Stravinskys rites-the final declaration before
the plunge.
Die for ArtI am cusped in glitter and glitch this landscape,
effulgent with twines of evening this city is built on the old
ritualscitizens carrying relics in their palms.old eyes, old words-
cracked thumbs, copper faces pieced together in neon green.
we are viscous in our ruinwe will not bury ourselvesin the white
noise we partake of each other like fruit under a gritty light bulb
bobbing like a star
your marionettes, your chteau of pearl your lauded Baroque
artistry and your amber regicideyour moon shriveled soliloquyyour
ancient solidity, enmeshed in opaque mirth the last act in the
theatre of the absurdyou are Deadulus-the prelude of glitch and
form our citys shadow, the hiatus of Sophia the final declaration
before the plunge.
