With Ash Raining Down On Our Sleepy Sleepy Town

Quiet nights remind us of how we once said it didn't matter if we didn't get the freedoms we were owed, for we had found each other, and we were people worth keeping for the rest of our lives.

Quiet nights make us wonder where we are now, and where the people worth keeping have been lost on the road that led us here, and whether we will find them again, and what it will take.

-

Please, just let me stay a while

And wrap me in your scented heats

Trap me gently in your passing ghosts

and call your victories my defeats.

Take his name when you touch my face

Leave me lying in his place

Say "darling, you were always mine.

All you needed was a little time."

Give me one night of secret love

And tear my skin when I feel most vain

Let this yearning turn to dust

If it isn't the right kind of pain.

Then I guess I'll live with my mistakes

And we'll both sleep in this bed I've made

And when the time has passed, I'll think of when we fell.

And I'll cry, yes I'll cry. "My Lover, Goodbye.

At least,just once, I could say I knew you well."

The Poor Souls of Pompeii

I am going to assume anyone who will read this, or reads this blog in general, has some semblance of an idea of who I am. If they didn't, why would they bother being here?* So here I am, about to do something out of character, at least, keeping in mind the "character" of this little 2x4 allotment of internet I call "mine".

I spent a good few years in London, and while I was there, I felt compelled to do something musical. I've been playing guitar since 8th grade, and it was a passion I wasn't about to let down anytime soon. One day, while I was playing Sudoku on the train, and doing scale exercises (on my arm, no less, because I didn't have my guitar with me), I got approached by a man, asking if I would like to join a band. As out of the blue as this was, it gave me courage and conviction to say "yeah, why the fuck not?" A month later, and I joined the as-yet-unnamed Poor Souls of Pompeii for our first rehearsal together. It was the 14th of November, 2007, a day before my 20th birthday. In fact, I didn't get home till midnight, and Andy (the vocalist) dropped me off, so he was the first person I spent my 20th birthday with. This, as one is wont to say, was the start of something great, and beautiful.

Three years (and a bit) on, we have just released our debut full-length album (following 2 five-track EPs released the previous couple of years) and it is now available at iTunes, and will be on Spotify soon. But gone are the days when people buy music, and we're well aware of that. And so we're giving it away for free. All it costs you? 10 seconds of your time to go to facebook and like the band.

And so, I would like to take this opportunity to ask (or tell/request/insist/permit/command/pickyourgoddamnfuckingverbyourself) to kindly click here and go to our facebook page. All you have to do is like the page, and you can download the album for absolutely nada. Zip. Zilch. This is something that I invested blood, sweat, and tears in (the money can go burn itself) and it means so much to me, so it would mean a lot if you listened to it, and shared it with anyone you think would care.

Thank you.

An Even Sadness

I returned to what we had called our bed, as we had called it ours with our others too. I remember brushing the cobwebs off our decadent bodies, spinning songs into nails, and writing stories with strands of air. You played with my hair as I blew a short tune into your heart; Do-Mi-So it went. I spoke to you in triads through our nights, but you listened only in pictures and feelings. We should have known that was a sign, but we were blind. We were young. We were content to walk as each other's shadows, hiding in the sun. When contentment turned to insufficiency, we will never know for certain, my dear. But I know, as you know, that when we woke up with our others, we were not surprised. The stars had it read to us as we slept, but without the image and its melody, we did not care to pay attention.

Losing ourselves in each other's eyes was when we lost ourselves to ourselves. Finding ourselves, it turns out, is a frightening trial of faith, a faith neither of us seems to hope to find.

Fake Names

She called it lust. I spelled it L I B E R A T I O N. We kissed softly, reminding ourselves of who we belonged to, but remembering that this moment, at least, was ours alone.

-

We let our clothes tangle on the bed, the floor, and all about us, if only it means that our hearts will fold perfectly when we throb into each other, and share the foul tastes of this world within blinks of the twilight dawn.

When she wakes up, I'll be gone.

At least I have loved her, if only for a night.

At least I'll be able to say, I once lived in spite of who I was, and who I will be forever more.

A Passion Automatic

We wake up eating cigarettes and pissing blood,

tying each other's necks with nooses of love

made from the finest hairs off the horse's tail

that failed to scream at a string's embrace.

Asleep, laughing at ourselves

dead sunless visions of spirals

and ghosts making love to the sound

of a liver sobbing in its drink.

All necessary adjustments made

we strap into our private throes

eager eyes to the stars counting: ten,

nine,

eight,

seven,

six,

five,

four,

three,

two,

one.

Playing the Palace

"It's gonna hurt."

"I don't want it to."

And what got made, was broken too.