Five Studies on Erich Zann

by Objet petit a

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1.
I’ve witnessed countless breaks of dawn bring promises of solitude, humming a siren song that says: always is valueless. I celebrate rhythm reduced to monotonous cliché. Pills and strangers accompany me to bed. I sleep safe and sound.
2.
Sarcastic remarks about hopes and dreams lost make for cheap laughs and cynics keep cool company, but will they hold you tenderly tight in the flickering light when your demons pry at night? Light a cigarette, surely you will always be fine. You will always be just fine. Nothing’s ever signified, but I refuse hollowness. Desire ties me, keeps me trying ‘till I die. I long for death to end.
3.
Save your postcard dialectics for whom they may impress. I have grown weary of reason. I have witnessed in excess: This world’s bad. That’s that. All is tragedy and regret. Spare me rationalizations ‘bout how there still is hope. My cat stares like she knows, chasing torn calendar pages on the floor. I’m just waiting ‘till I die. This world is not ours and it’s out to get us. We all thrive on bargained time. We survive through violent crime. Thoughts as black as coca-cola, but words so sweet, sound so sweet. I should have never left church walls I’ve been talking to alone. Now drifting on insulin. Keep me rather in this cage…
4.
Will they leave? Never. Growing sick of chatter. Every word they utter of teachings long outworn. I’ve witnessed countless breaks of dawn break promises of solitude... Forever caged in meaning, everything: they claim it, signify it, name it, crave it like a cigarette. I stand naked, eyed by the cat, ashamed. I’m a beast. What’s life but means to the ends of death? Death holds truth. To us you’re all just dirt. Are not all men just dirt and that is all we will ever be, armored tight in words or in wood, we disseminate decay. Dirt is all I will ever be, just a corpse in a coffin in a grave in the ground, worms feeding off me. Dirt is all I will ever be, just a corpse in a coffin in my untimely grave, worms feeding off me. To us you’re all just dirt.
5.
Untitled II 04:42
Fear the dark, for beasts lurk downstairs. Silence your prayers, lest they sense your diligence. Corrupt your heart, lest they feast on innocence. Guards, stand tall! Hold line! They’re coming for the gates! Break the flood, let none escape! Corrupt your heart. On blood stained mud we march to glory. Lives lost won’t be forgotten. Their sacrifice crowned us kings. Salvation impends. Our army marches on. We’ll reach their gates by sundown, sweep their walls, wash away filth. Blood on their hands, no fear of god, the corrupters cannot be saved. Aren’t we saviors now?

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released September 13, 2015

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Objet petit a Hamburg, Germany

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