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letra de the doghawk - alias & doseone

(i can’t dream right now … so i wrote this down …)

i’m alone at a pit with a single wolf
at least, sort of, except it has hoofs
and a beak, but it barks
at the dark that’s in front of us
so i know it to be doggish in part
wonderous, whatever the f-ck it is
we sat by the unwell, at one point
i even had its head in my lap
then night fell and it all began to collapse
under the stark contrasting blacks
of our dissimilar habitats, upbringing, all that
the history of humans and traps, pelts on our backs
so naturally the birdwolf attacked
and rightfully ate my face
i’ve never felt so unsafe
so i wailed for a while
by the deep unlit
of this botomless pit
blood all over my sh-t
’til i noticed these ants
making their way boldly up the backs of my hands
then the wolfhawk returned and started to pant
while infinite insects scaled my neck
and slowly did envelop my head
like a living clicking sticking hissing mask
that politely parts for my eyes
and moves when i laugh
so we walked, me and the doghawk
in my hundred-thousand leg helmet and stopped
compelled by my comfort in such frightful conditions
i listened to hear whatever soft h-ll of a forest i’m lost in
bright chorus of chaos, k!ller and cowardice
and all i want is to not know what an hour is
gradually growing into poisonous flowers
and wild out, use my blood like a beast
face red when i eat
survive like i’m liable to die at all times
’cause whatever i’m doing ain’t life

sometimes a sunset involves you personally
and just wrecks your sh-t inadvertently
and maybe even reels a feeling perfectly
and when you pen it people still don’t get it (x2)

now like me and this wolf
we decide about a cliff
give whatever stars surround a sniff
and walk off of it
meanwhile an ox sits
its back swole open with whip
it doesn’t ever really rest
it just suffers less a bit
or a six-pack of hawk, wings clipped
held together at neck
cellophane chaining their legs, sh-t
twelve tigers tied to a burning car lit
with a crowd of the happening capturing it
businessmen laughing
beside a ten-story concrete tent is collapsing
with warnings smashing into advertis-m-nts flashing
all i am asking is to explore my worst fears
with mere a lantern and something knife-like for years
as long as you bend light without ruining a life
not getting good and sick
cold in the caves of what i don’t know
that’ll show me to a choppin’ block’s top
and personally i like my head a lot
and wanna keep it
it’s where i spend most of the weekend
weakened, in a good way though
sorta strong about where i want my healing to go
life outside the skull can grow dull
and diffuse into an economy-fed
priding, writhing baby dragon with one thousand necks
and fire fueled by all our rents
spent, and we’re lent
until it’s just cold
and then cold. and more cold
never gets a second act
no coming back
from wearing fire
that is a proper door
the kind of proper p-ssage explorers long for
and don’t return through
don’t let what beckons burn you

- alias doseone

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