1. |
Own My Body
04:11
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I have an acute understanding of respect
there is a dull ache and it's building in my chest
thats not a part of me, thats not what I reflect
refuting your truth is not my personal project
they stare, you stare, they stop
they stare, you stare, they stop
but it's so hard
to see through the fog
live your life in convex and your mirror is unchecked
projecting hate and fear on what you don't know or expect
thats not a part of me, thats not my own defect
refuting your truth is not my personal project
they stare, you stare, they stop
they stare, you stare, they stop
but it's so hard
to see through the fog
I want to own my body
I have an acute understanding of respect
there is a dull ache and it's building in my chest
I went to Beltane and I came back with this hex
"You cannot see me without directed context."
they stare, you stare, they stop
they stare, you stare, they stop
but it's so hard
to see through the fog
I want to own my body
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2. |
Celine
03:36
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panama, valkyrie, yak hair
I saw you yesterday turning clouds into air
white light collarbone Jane Eyre
I want to huddle up to your cold body there
brisk walk, signifying stare
I'll meet you at the fountain on Taylor Square
street, door, lobby, lift, stairs
for this one I'm unprepared
blow smoke into my face like I'm 19
rush through my veins like deprived of nicotine
we could be the it-couple of the mean streets
we could be gender trouble in the bed sheets
Celine
chiffon silk, un-repaired tear
shell pink shirt on the back of your chair
dressing gown, medieval fair
who cums first, the tortoise or the hare?
run your scaled tongue down my body like its icing
push your thin fingers through my heart like epinephedrine
we could be the it-couple of the mean streets
we could be gender trouble in the bed sheets
Celine
breath into my ear, I'm plasticine
run your thin fingers on my lips like vaseline
we could be the it-couple of the mean streets
we could be gender trouble in the bed sheets
Celine
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3. |
Sleep & Blink
03:24
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If I didn’t need to sleep and blink
I could pull myself back from the brink
maybe then I could feel and think
maybe then I could feel and think
If I wasn’t raised at the sink
If I was grown in flowers of zinc
maybe then I could feel and think
maybe then I could feel and think
nothing
nothing
maybe then I could feel and think
maybe then I could feel and think
suit of armour with left breast chink
pierces dull but severs a link
maybe then I could feel and think
maybe then I could feel and think
I only sign indelible ink;
strong, dark, wet musk stink.
maybe then I could feel and think
maybe then I could feel and think
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4. |
Sing For Your Supper
03:20
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You just woke up
I’ve been here for months
but something has gone awry;
the promise of your lullaby
sing for your supper
sing my lover
sing for your supper
sing my lover
memory, grief and relief
lips in front of your teeth
but something has gone awry;
the promise of your lullaby
sing for your supper
sing my lover
sing for your supper
sing my lover
there is ink on my fingers
white dalliances linger
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5. |
Pragmatism
03:29
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You’re living in sin
and I want in
my nipple lights the cherry
at the end of your Virginia Slim
I’m needles & pins
touch my skin
my nipple lights the cherry
at the end of your Virginia Slim
there’s a pragmatism to the way she walks
there’s a pragmatism to the way she talks
there’s a pragmatism to her fatalist thought
there’s a pragmatism, there’s a pragmatism
I’m Paraffin
I’m too deep in
your avoidance is the dangling carrot
at the end of my wanderlust whim
I’m maudlin
because two months in
your avoidance is the dangling carrot
at the end of my wanderlust whim
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6. |
Matriarchal Stone
03:35
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anosmia, stealing clothes
gifted later as a gesture
of what she does not know
of veins and skin and hair her own
grey streak, Kalisch nose
follicles bright, Patrick White
words are sticks and stones
as is shame unbeknown
some bonds are deeper than the old ones
some bonds are etched in matriarchal stone
no past and no tome
fever dream, murky stream
grow my stems, hold my own
bildungsroman is a rhizome
bathe in acetone
gone awry; wait to die
determinate, in repose
what kind of chromosomes are those?
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Maxine Gillon Melbourne, Australia
Melbourne-based artist, songwriter & producer Maxine Gillon has made a name for herself with her melodic, absurdist & plaintive songwriting that introjects the energy and literacy of the rich countercultural history of alternative music into a contemporary eclectic form. Across both upbeat pop songs and ballads, there’s no mistaking her signature sound once you hear it. ... more
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