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Middleweight

from fyz1ks​!​1 by Other Families

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lyrics

Service.

Silence.


Scene:

Last night I woke and you were screaming like a bat.
The hallway empty but for four red doors, each an esophagus expanding,
the light under them playing silent monster movies on the floor in milky pools of black and white
relief. Something moving, something drew me down the narrows between two lamps’ sleeping
sentries past the closet where the umbrellas’ webbed skeletons lean like the shadows
we lack.

I opened the fridge, and out flew a thousand bats.
The furred fruit of their bodies samples of night’s black punctuation,
they left their screams ringing in light, their crumpled face flesh,
black glossy beads of the eyes set in their horror,
and everywhere wings.

They roost, heavy ones hanging like speed-bags with features, light ones like lost winter gloves,
their stalactites all grouped, blood bags black loot tuned to the mouse of my movement. My
mouth waters, late at night, it is drops clinging to the ridged roof of its
midnight snack.

You came for me. My prize,
fits me perfectly. Your size,
leave it in my middleweight.
Middleweight.

We drive, tonight I
feel afraid just to be alive.
Why would I eat your imitation,
ring round the middleweight.
The Middleweight.

Here’s a marked part:
there's a lot

ticked off
on your donor card.

So you bought her
salt water,

but could you bother
a blotter

for your daughters
to drop.

Walking in the dogs simmer, boil up.
They empty down hallways like echoes, as
in the kitchen I’m making you mud.

Moaning Pipes in the walls where moles may lay clogs
like cholesterol. Blind, they finger
futures in lint, history’s folds—

The way we live, knowing not newness nor prizing
the old, lay in our beds cold
as cutlery. Last night I did a bad thing.
Tie tree a willow all week, withering,
My rooms grow red with the morning—

that last night I ate a bad thing.
tonight TV movies take children,
chewing their lips, they thin out like bulimics,
a boarder, older we know this boredom as horror,
the strange crick in your neck, as if

always looking over your shoulder,
I jiggle the sand from a sock,
the dustpan leaves it a mountain range,
it is swept under a sea,

I beat that rug: in other words I love
the lamp, it is lovely.

In a directory
please find me
Under A, as in “a book,”

like all those
that I close, then walk away,
then fall sideways.

Hey.

How’d you get there.

I don’t know where (I am).

I’m lost.

Trees with lights in their lofts.

The freeway that foxed me.

When you want a bout, you find me,
Not hard to put a face to a hammer’s hen.
You can be my fortune cookie for a few teeth
that you can keep up in your mouth ‘til then.

All the hands that we lay through the round
I am sorry but proud, you will hunt me down.
The fist I kissed, the cross, the dogs barking,
So count me out, flat on the ground I hear them calling—

My lawyers add that
You’re wrong, Justice Hutchinson,
I’ll still say that I didn’t know what I was doing.
A splash of rifle, a psycho like Michael.
Approach the bench again.

It fits with a modern decay.
I bruised my brother’s brain,
Cain, the middleweights still waiting in the land of Nod,
he sleepwalks,
til they bang my head in.



I woke up and took the long walk to the bus stop,
pushed through the people gathered by the driver like a clot.
A man ate a jelly filled donut and it dropped
heavy blots on his breast pocket, false brooches.
I can’t shake it off, shake it out,
something nocturnal that won’t rest, behind the back wall,
smoking short cigarettes by the dog house.
Shuddering bus, square drop of blood, heading for
red mountain camps…

credits

from fyz1ks​!​1, released November 22, 2014

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Other Families Toronto, Ontario

Experimental DIY arts collective.
We are self-made, self-produced and we've independently released everything we've put out.

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