#volcanicpanic

[unillustratedadventures]

Death Mountain (2012/4)

A wonderland, wintery. With strict height demands. Lining up to take a safe fall, when we’re old enough. Getting dark, and a little yellow at heart. Sugarhead, burning out as we reach the end. It sinks in as the bar drops down, and our fates are sealed for sure. Finish up, and go home to really nothing much. At the start it was so slow; snuck up so fast. Dying light. This’ll be our last ride tonight. It sinks in as the bar drops down, and our fates are sealed for sure. The shakes hit me. Creaking, the slow march upwards. Waving. Soothing. Losing consciousness. It cranks up the cliff. Over the lip it bends, delivers our grisly end. Death Mountain.

[unillustratedadventures]

Heat Death (2014)

Resolved. Cosmically old. Untold aeons grow cold. The scene at the end forgets three acts’ events. It came. And went away. It ate up the days. Even light—frozen in mid-flight. The arrow of time, lost in the night. Everything explodes; we find our way home. We find our way. The scene at the end forgets three acts’ events. The heat death.

[unillustratedadventures]

Life Throes (2014)

Subterranean harm. A cause for alarm. It’s not panic, not calm. Somnambulant loads of throbbing ropes pull blood from our toes. Life throes. The significance of dark thoughts against the long night we attend. Now I’m fidgetting, compensating for my first-world woes. Life throes. The damage shows. (The damage shows) new lows. Subcutaneous wounds. Syncopic swoons. And you play fast and lose. Now we’re coughing up lungs. Biting our tongues. Tearing out throats. Life throes.

Life Throes, by Death Mountain (Soundcloud)

[unillustratedadventures]

Word Salad (2012/4)

Re-using scraps I’d scribbled on, bled through with to-dos not yet done. Words don’t know what to become; they’d as soon read as they’d run (away from you, and down the page). Italics claim it’s not too late for old-school ‘a’s. Words don’t know what to become. They’d as soon read as they’d run (circles around your ‘i’s/eyes). Words don’t know what to become. So if and when they fail, cut those feet, cross out crossbars and tails. ‘Cause if you don’t act soon, they’ll turn to rust and runes.

Music video for Word Salad by Death Mountain (YouTube)

[beatdisc]

dthmntn debut VOLCANIC PANIC has arrived! / $28

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