bruxism from echoland by anatole anatole anatole

everyone’s looking like a target to me
I wanna become the hand that feeds but I’ll never be
insomnia keeps me alive like anxiety
the grinding of teeth makes it so easy
animals in cages, put them out of misery
euthanasia to suffering pigeon mortuaries
hospital batteries go off, oxygen stops
put up barricades to ward of all the cops
the conflagration of sleep is death
not afraid of dying, afraid of what’s next
a runny nose and no sleeve around
my hands and knees cotton-bound
seizures in sleep like this is normal
abnormality becomes pathologically familiar
everyone’s looking like a target to me
lashing of tongue, tense irritability

• Experimental
• amateur
• drones from hole
• drones from piano
• lo-fi
• Nashville