Get all 3 alicia astronomo releases available on Bandcamp and save 90%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of is this a game to you ? )yes, piggy bank tightrope, and slob rap vol. 1.
1. |
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black rook,
caving matter
unwoven clothes
women radically pose
aimlessly purging
in bone throws
anorexic temple sob show
took a cyst to the eiffel tower and
clapped slow
bicycle baseball hat kats
lucidly vacant, creased clits
clip, clack, experiencing clucked
hymns
positioning altars to fathers
appetizing lecture hall bits
cinnamon dangled off trees
and i knew my mood swang
like a tire
dancing in the rain
bird and coltrane
butterfly pea color change
waiting for my laundry
makes me consider
slowing down
revisiting being a baby
grimly lit forgetful waking
bone bright, halo standing
on tripwire
classical gods, twirling
cyclones, pissing sin
into open eyes,
with twitches,
the eczema is unbearable,
something to take a hand over
crochet web straightjacket
colors pop like bubblegum
cynical childish cues
decaying set ups,
instruments with bent strings
words swoop into themselves
mucus channels like funnels,
indented snow cones
when i am home
i pick apart dead syllables
and trombones
answering the phone
getting over too far time
zones that can never
intersect
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2. |
pockets
02:06
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black resin lips
tongues engaged by the gorge
what you know about manning a horse
or maiming the chore list
striking three times against pinned bricks
tooth flicks when you got two bics got me three
phones in my purse and i pluck words like i shear sheep
seeping sewer gorge couldn’t bear to be discreet
jxutaposed placed crisscross among feet
i been
rocking with my twinkle toes
i ain’t shaved in 17 months
here’s my card repœt
twiddle with my way best fingers
jean wrapped roll ups
here’s the fruit twist it pole
slob rap, rats stewing out your pots and
your blood’s thinner, watch your tongue and liver,
don’t wait a day to be slimmer,
let me tell you something about this wafer
22.99 to be anything you want, yellow polka dots
surround my spine and glimmer
don’t listen to the news, or vine, or twitter,
and shut your windows, pick your own locks
because the windows are boarded up with the timbers
built by shivery clinking fingers
it’s an apocalypse, let me tell you about what they
do way past dinner:
there’s a bomb shelter behind sydney’s house,
she doesn’t know,
but it’s between that and the old man who
live way past lin'en
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3. |
baloop (ft. authr)
02:17
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(authr)
I got this automated head cap
A millennial with a vintage name tag
Timber wolf chilling where them caves at
Got em shook like mom asking em them grades at
Know my loneliness and nothing else
Felt the floor shake
Made a weapon out of fork and plate
Trynna leave these borders of grey
Dystopia but a utopia was made
Make room my makeshift hand grenade
Bazooka tooth sipping on minute made lemonade
Aint a day i feel no pain
No gain
No training wheels on the big bike
Bickering liars get a big yikes
And that’s not limiting or bias
You earn stripes
Just me in dojo
With a phone and mic
That’s light cousin
(alicia)
trumpeted picketing pilgrims
look lusterous in fools gold
twin sister and mister crossing
the street in matching fur coats
why we incentivize spending at
holidays how quick are we to
fold, mini post it notes, staple
receipt to my coffin clothes
coffee crafted by hands
that we don’t think about
when we’re emptying our
bowels in bowl shaped thrones
dancing dazzled in robes
picked and sewn by knubbed
knife impacted grown
non gmo identity
theft by
crafting a familiar role
how many items you stole
pick pocketed stone
river hopskotch finnicking
blows,
sunk to the west parliament
shore, leave me alone,
balloon corn follicle soap
etch the remorse in your own
blimp bitches pass by
like feeble clouds
inflated to an itis,
a regular pastime
i sit and watch birds
leave marks on
windowpanes and
laugh because it’s
always the same
ones, same neighbors,
same font on shopping
center plaza galore
the same people who run
the mall here own the assortment
of stores by my home
that’s a galactic score
i’ve ruined the sore
illusion of choice,
rebrand yourself in 30 more
names and types and at
some point i won’t be able
to decide which side
you really like
when you’re two faced
like the 4 sides of a kite
gliding by while the air
gets thinner and these
blimp bitches whiz by
at sloth speed, couldn’t
imagine a lazier winter
cabin fever jitters exude
perfume like an illegitimate
sinner red A red cross
red lips red warning box
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4. |
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i have not spent these last few days lucid
all my thoughts shrink into loose leaf
i press my best toes together
pray to god to turn new leaf
i illustrate to me loose beans
erupting in rude leaks
terrifying how smoothly
i slide down chute of mood swing
masturbation don’t fill me
orgasm silt finger, debris
my intuition amputeed
i trudge through limbo absen-tee
to panel mime re-al-i-ty
bedroom vacant of sign of me
because demons stuffed into closed sheets
i let them out now and then
to fondle each other like friends
incited orgy beginning to end
i invite all my ghost heads
depression is stone steps
to elevate unknown depths
i unfold emotions tectonic
i ingest baneful tonic
i foam at the mouth without logic
i spiral, ballerina of poppets
i string myself at the bobbin
i hold myself when forgotten
i bridge the untrodden
aspects of my sorrow
and ask me how often
i’d like to suffocate options
play cards with all my worst toxins
to shuffle outcome like mosh pit
alleviate me naproxen
make peace with two fists in
castrated the nuisance
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