AUDDER THAN FICTION

AUDDER (than fiction) | prodigal mouth in written doses

[audderthanfiction]

check the link. a journal by audder. new poems, written and visual. and soon... new music. If you've been following this tumblr, thank you for the years of support! You made this next stage of creativity happen. Violet Tape/fm is a nostalgic work and entirely dedicated to you. More updates on instagram: audderthanfic

[audderthanfiction]

listful thinking:

when empty calendar boxes look like graveyard plots; fill it with deadlines, deadlines, deadlines; find space; reserve now and invest well for the sake of your loved ones. i.e. “hey, we should hang out some time.” “my listful thinking agrees and i have no choice but to plan ahead through the power of social obligation. what are you doing 2.5 tuesdays from now?”

when happy hour is bottomless busyness but you’re too drunk to live up to the intoxicated creative cliche; your bartenders are all the people you never want to let down; they end up with a sloppily scrawled love note on the tab. i.e. “we took a shot at listful thinking and my cup is tipping over, but how about we squeeze in all the lemons life is throwing at us? i’ll pay for the pitcher full of shallow answers we’re sharing to catch up with one another.”

when the vacation map is a thousand step dance chart laid like a mat on the crumbling floor beneath you and; dammit, you will learn to mambo. i.e. “listful thinking? ain’t that the broadway number we performed when we took a trip to new york during our 2 hour layover between business conferences?”

when your goals get knocked up... they could be yours. they may be rabbits too. i.e. “listful thinking, i know we’ve been very careful - but i’ve spent so much of my time with you and i can look past our grandchildren asking me ‘what’s up, doc?’ and digging holes everywhere... so will you commit to me for the rest of our lives?”

[audderthanfiction]

i wanna write my prayers differently

reconsidering the deeper spirit things: freedom by a fling of the lover of my soul pouring offerings before the coffin wins. a closet dressing room for exit wings you test your moral plane confess the birds and bees gotta sting call upon the name but check the id and see who’s in the mortal ring. i combat my fatality like a child the spawn of long-suffering unusual naive bearings what’s wrong with my upbringing to read the signs and reject the delivering from true love cause he’s kidding me or i’m kidding him.

i wanna write my prayers differently knee-deep in a bittersweet symphony they got a flow that sound like oceans when she went six-feet to the ground that’s been keeping me

spirit lead me.

[audderthanfiction]

Slow Burn Me In Your Quiet Storm, @audderthanfiction

[audderthanfiction]

Emerald Green

this one’s on you ruby two shoes always checking your hands for the blood to run through oh, but you’re no jane doe for the life of you can’t imagine you’d be stranger though for the psych in you know this wild child has likened you   to many a complex that could steal  my trustworthy accomplice,  the other-worldly rebel, well-accomplished  cause to me, there is no contest  you take the cake and make the conquest  of my jungle boogie soul feel sweet, cool and honest  not this pulp fiction, hot royale with cheese  overdone princess of promise  prim to play the first impression  then promptly stops to rewind and pause it  she needs the check before deposit  like, what’s your offer?  what’s your deal?  selling me “likely” for the seldom i still feel  the emotional toll i paid then, and then, now jaded  chasing broken yellow lines on memory’s pavement  around the city to your hint of emerald eyes  i knew ember to fuel my light  to flashing amber  at the right shade of blue night  begging through my dreams... 

then, you waved in a traffic of deep views when we lose control at what we oversee going at what we can manage we can sit on these empty streets where, hell or high water, they can’t force us to sleep. you come by storm when i come as an evacuee wondering if you gave notice how i watched a holiday decorated as a house years on end. when i saw it on the outside next to you, inner circle, moving from square one for the interior design of zen shaping through the true meaning of friend... i’m here to describe it, not to moralize it, cause it feels right just being with you, - i saw a new, mint-condition peace in quarter.  and the guilt dwelling in brick and mortar  couldn’t insulate my walls of insecure, alarming heart rate  cause i’ve seen the border of green  rising and setting where you warmly greet  another dreamer on her way home. 

[audderthanfiction]

Doing some old school flows on some old school issues.

How heavy is your chain? If your cross still have weight, Your mountain a high climb Or your heart too wide for narrow gates... I’m wearing that unbalanced design Trying to tip the scales before it’s too late. I do me justice when I drop judgment And just claim, “Love, we are the same"

[audderthanfiction]

- Homing Signal, @audderthanfiction

[audderthanfiction]

Zealot - Audder [Written 02.24.15]

hi @cocoaandcoffee ! thinkin of ya.

[audderthanfiction]

habits in remembrance

i have a habit of disposability. you touched it, it’s done it’s dirty it’s nothing. 

on the verge of your absence and eventual leave i noticed i have a habit of clutter. i realized the luxury of sentiment surrounded me and you were becoming so far removed they suffocated me. 

i planned to get rid of it all. old books were used ideas. old teddy bears were touched statements. and even if disposable cameras were making their way back again those pictures all end up on a phone and on instagram to keep us connected. 

i didn’t need the excess if i was to follow you. 

this happens again. 

i’m staring down the shirts you borrowed the sweaters i wore realizing the verge of which habit keeps them in my bottom drawer.

[audderthanfiction]

Motive Dealer

I am the salvaged one. I am the salvaged one. All parts and questionable heart cause I haven't one to hold. No, I am all here. Promise, I am all here. Dragging a little less baggage, Wrecked and jealous at anyone who can stay Alive. Present. Awake. Repentant. What drives me? What drives you? What crazy motive will be an undertow Crashing the only way I know? Making waves when I asked for a road. Crashing is the only way out I know Alive. At present. Awake. Repentant. Wrecked and jealous, Anyone can stay Hopeless It's more concrete than anything I can pave. Standing firm I can't make your faith Better or worse For blessing and cursing's sake Someone's gotta know the stakes Alive. At present. Awake. Repentant. It's more concrete than anything I can pave.

[audderthanfiction]

I find a prophet to be Lonely. You can't attach. There is no string on her back To make her say Everything you want to hear. There is no string of cleverness to this When a million knives come flying, scrolling at our lives, They are pin drops thinking They are needles in haystacks; 'Hey''s and 'Hi''s stacking on a phone screen. I guess a socialite needs to dim out to save her battery. I guess she saves judging by the accuracy of word prediction. For that user friendly of man is double-edged. That is what I know in part.

I’m Part by audder

[audderthanfiction]

My questions are unable to offer more than brother Cain Held back, and met with uncertainty I didn’t know the presence of chains Till I denied them when I couldn’t accept the present named “Change” Disguised as the past, Are we medieval, when again, some future seems plain One night, I see the dragon bowing to a double-edged sword in your hand, Wrapped in words with no wrist guards, Your spoken comfort at worst, is best said as “Slain".

[audderthanfiction]

The Few in Exact

Why? Cause the time was taken from me on turning tables And strikes a hunger To count the cost where once I paid attention to the sign before the number Now reading it within its context Showed my contest to my contents Much to my contempt, due to the product of this nature’s mother: Placing ‘I’ before the Roman five to be A self-made IV to my bleeding out ID But in the operation of myself after grace Bore the beginning of the mark When temptation rears it’s ugly face Wretched me, in singularity I fear the stand alone fate that shows A double life state as such the case in Romans 7 Though if this end to weakness Builds to a year I’m no longer slave Should I put to rest this need for completeness until heaven? Like trust the Author and Finisher of faith as gain In His saying that all is lost and Hold what is now, in light of the final aftermath, As mere addition as much as momentary affliction? Like blessing is temporary and Rejoice when they make the incision See, I’m attempting to respect your decision to divide Despite all logic that defines me as despised, I reach an inequivalent sum that No disciple could lose it all and amount to none 

[audderthanfiction]

Letter for my long term break-up

Dear Depression:

I swear to God I'm done with you. But you leave your clothes in every room, your dishes in the sink, and your bills unpaid and down the drain, and this divorce makes me wonder if I took up the first name "Manic" to make it harder to drop you as a last name.

The dirtiest part is you come hand in hand with "Panic" and both of you have a way of keeping me in bed. 

You remind me I'm afraid to be alone. Panic puts the shivers down my spine and wrists and I second guess how I learned to resist going 52 stories high in the name of falling for you. 

When I finally get out of the house and around my friends, that walk of shame does nothing to cover up every way in which I wear you. You're heavier than perfume. I can't shake off these skin-clad traces of you. 

It's like some days, I am worn by you. You take my sweater, my slight smile, and swoop into every conversation so I'm stuck living in your shadow. They always wants to talk about you, if even the smallest hint of your apathetic attitude shows up in mine, like I get thoughtful and change tune when our song comes on and they're all too familiar with this distant mood. I match the tone of a sky's gloom, in my morally grey judgement, I allow you another night alone in my room.

It's hard separating Recurring Feelings from you. And honestly, they could have no connection but the times I went deep with you created muscle memory, back and neck tension, reflexes that want to check up on you. You. Damn, everything falls in patterns and rhymes of you.

I. Swear. To. God. I'm. Done. With. You.

Stop telling everyone we're still together. Stop making me think I need you to tell me who I am. Stop thinking I don't know how to give up on you. Trust me, I have the experience having spent enough days giving up on my body at every inch of your touch, harbouring every sinking feeling of mistrust till I was another man down to let you do what you want to do.

There isn't a day that will come around to make me beg you'd come through. When I come to, I know I'm only tripping over the traces of you. So never mind. And never stop by to pick up this baggage. I’ve carried on to run and live things out with the one you were jealous of - Faith. You’ll never claim a piece of me out of state, no matter how accustomed I became to our packed history. I’ve removed you from my ID and ideas bordering suicide seduction. And I’m so far removed I can leave you this:

Peace.

[audderthanfiction]

Tapeworm Hole

I am deeply complexed by old knots in my stomach coiled as a web of lies to bind the notebooks of poetry ignorance and bliss tightly stitched to tighten lips on the basis of “do nots” from superstitious spiders If you step on them, it will rain. 

They do not water down the venom in the privacy of your home for they thrive on dark corners If you become them, you will climb the proverbial spout over and over again spewing or shouting out the same lessons that you will be washed out down on your luck again the bottom sole finding his foothold where you lay down, till you say when Can you even voice how the guttural nursery sound, the fairy tale you fell victim to acting out in became their wolf cry? shallow cries to deep their expectation without empathy  their loving limit a far off preach 

Maybe I am more torn than the seams every time I feel ripped off by an animal instinct’s hairy morality 

And here is your supernatural way of knowing my thread count.

And here is my soul begging the bulimic body of it’s true weight  and, “please, it’s true. wait!"

We are the size of great mysteries of love unreachable but not forever untouchable and the hand in your throat and the nails in your nerves have no righteous hold if they are skin-coated, metallic flavoured tissues for a cloud of thundering heart beat issues spirit misguided and misused first placed on the runway of a pulse line gone flat just for a vine length view without a vinedresser connected who knows the full-fledged, universal foundation promises pledged in the fashion of you. 

Instead You’ll choke on your own link to the start of your loop. You’ll crawl into the tapeworm hole of the hunger that’s bugging you.

[audderthanfiction]

Eternal Sunshine (Jhene Aiko Remix) - Audder

"... your winged speech Too short to tell Too clipped with views from the six Days familiar with hell Six months done you over, done you well

If the sun only shines in summer, Go ahead, stay sleepin’ on yourself” (Lyrics con’t below)

I think you lost something, girl I think you are something Shells put to ears for the pearls You speaking like oceans will part And pathways uncurl But your world is too small Not to fall in the wake of that call It’s certain disaster Calculate the after Of the plus ones whose differences Turned negative Subtracter subdued to the powers That won’t be themselves For, who knows the hour? Presume an angel but your winged speech Too short to tell Too clipped with views from the six Days familiar with hell Six months done you over, done you well If the sun only shines in summer Go ahead, stay sleepin on yourself.

Forget about it.

Cause this is for them, or this is for some thesis To support or amend This is an amenity for sermonizing till we all say amen To urbanity in your vanities, street cred by the side of your bed Yeah, tell me what good that dream grafted and led What tree of knowledge bore your laboured fruit To prove yourself, then proved you were off branch from death proof You couldn’t make a living. You spilled your guts just to cut your heart from dirty roots Now the Gardener is pruning out the ruins You can show your backyard exactly what He’s doing If you can’t build them homes, take them to your hood Being a friendly neighbour ain’t about being greater In responsibility, doesn’t mean you always should Your only power is in saying the Great One will and He could The way He’s done it for you, as you understood Don’t underestimate the blessing of a spotless mind To recall His goodness in your own running time. Watch. You won’t forget about it.

- Audder

[audderthanfiction]

*Please hold off the deadline

The tone of your voice hit dial triggers. You heard, "Pick me up, pick me up!" I begged, "Let's call it off. I'm too hung up."