Bred from Brocaded Carp in the yellow sweatshirt: simply being home the house is burning up, his hands dropping low. you can tell the sex of the baby through the intercom, by the glare of fine heat down the street next to his hotel. the words get longer and longer and then they split and can go in either direction. it’s never the tulips put a tack on the nail and beat back the adversary. she roams the halls, letting down the water beds. the third such parrot was flown into our window. pillock. the result: thrown across the man from my studio who started to strangle me. the mind is a carousel, six horses at once running into each other and fucking up each other’s plans. get rid of me before i start to fight back! i’m not a bad person, a foot stuck in a cupboard door, a bento box stuffed with packing peanuts he keeps hidden in his desk. is this what love is? me too, seems like we should be forced to listen to each other’s secrets. tonight i decided to buy myself a present and line up a photo-shoot for later this week. i have an unrequited crush and i want to see what my dreams would look like with you in them. the sun blushes into the sky: a federally listed yellow hibiscus and me sitting in his lap while she looked for pictures in the cabinets and drew hearts. a voice will never be anyone’s best friend, but someone you’ll take for granted, anyway, make it shut up.
Join us for a Free Party + Live Event, 30 July
Free entry. Join Fffirst Time for a live performance of their new mixtape, followed by an early 00's dance party for Ellie's birthday.
30/7/2022 - RSVP here
Soft Launch
This is track 21 from Soft Launch, 22 poems based on 22 music tracks each based on 22 loops of a single sample.