Young Evil from Machete Arm by Matted Grass

dead words to hang in the air. black eyes to hide behind my hair.
you talk and i just smile. my tongue is caged by my canines.

i hung my mirror between you and me and let you speak.
you might remember my face but i’m far behind it.
you’re having such a nice time. i keep you entertained.
but you are just catching my scraps. what my jokes shit out.

that mulberry tree’s been gone for years and it’s dead to me,
but you like telling stories about you and me.
sorry, i guess i’ve got a bad memory.
i still don’t quite recall just where you fit in.

you ask for photos of me. i always agree.
“i’ll look and see what i’ve got.” you’re checking the mailbox
for what you’ll never receive. to me, this is funny.
black holes in my sweet brown eyes, and i’m turning off the lights.

that mulberry tree’s been gone for years and it’s dead to me,
but you like telling stories about you and me.
somehow i doubt that it slipped your memory,
that one little story that never crosses your lips.

• Experimental
• electronic
• indie
• indie rock
• rock
• textures
• Winston Salem