dinosaurs and ants and my poor trembling heart

some excavated nonsense from the 4d20 song lyrics craze way back which i guess has since become a whole project with a sleek modern look hosted on an AI workplace that brought a sort of a sneer to my dewy lips so i don't know about all that but credit where its due i guess. not that much credit though just play with my Palimpsest instead lovebug

from dan deacon (a dude got all up in my armpit CRAZY at one of his shows)

dinosaurs are so fucking cool and they never go out of style they're like the matrix

Eddie the Rebel
Jurassic Bark
Sharp Swords 
Ghost

Through the green hills rolls Eddie the Rebel. Through the soft Jurassic green hills and still, silent blue pools of the growing places he rolls, and his feet are ghostly over the waters and do not stir the leaves as he passes. His sword is sharp as dawn and he pulled it from the sun when it first rose wet and yellow from the ocean in its bright blue youth. The air now is not as sweet as it was back then, and the light now is full of dust when Eddie drifts through the clearings between the dark trees. It is late summer, and the leaves are heavy with the warmth of many sunny days. 

from gorillaz (look they were cool when i was a kid and i liked how in love damon and yukimi seemed on to binge)

becca james rest easy girl

Empire Ants
Live In Harmony With the Spirit of Nature
Windmill on a Floating Island
Do You Look Like Me?

Do you look like me? You’re a collection of ants; millions and billions more than our numbers could reasonably match, and I’m just one mind in one boy. The sun is warm on my face and warm on your million million shiny black bodies, which glitter rainbow darkness across the whole landscape; you cover every blade of grass, every stalk and stem, every leaf and flower. Nothing harmed, each thing flourishing under your tender ministrations. But so, so many of you. Bodies and bodies on top of stones and boulders. Bodies stacked in the streams and rivers, surefooted swaying in the currents that caress their ways though the microscope crevices between each one. Do you know what I look like? Do you look at me at all? The shadow of my flying island floats across your forests and hills. Do you think I am a thief? Have I stolen land from you? Do you want to touch the garden I have outside of my little white house? Do you want to cover up my sunny windows, blocking my light with your bellies? Do you want your million tiny twitching legs to feel my face? 

from björk (in highschool me and my coworker would get fucked off of ambien put on Bjork and then crawl around on the ground like animals as a form of worship)

o the trembling radiance

Pagan Poet
Triumph of a Heart
Mutual Core
Wanderlust

The mutual core has failed and my heart is conquered. It can no longer be swayed from the wanderlust kissed into it by that pagan poet. In the night it crawls out of my mouth, luminous and scarlet. Frightened of waking me, its beats are quiet and still as it pulses to the window and presses itself though the pane without breaking it. The air is full of the vibration of the poet's song. It is like the air itself is made of the uncountable strings of a harp whose curve is the sweep of the sky, and all those many strings, ordinarily so individual, are touched tonight by a singular artist, whose vision is vast enough to make perfect use of each microtone and mystic note that such an expansive instrument allows. My heart is strung on these strings. Its usual rhythm was instantly forgotten and now it quivers in a million directions at once. The air around it blurred red, stained with its flickering, fleeting presence. Oh heart of the state, why could you not love my own heart better? You gifted it to me, but it was your child. Always it loved you as well as I knew how to let it, but oh perfect love, how could you not surpass these affections and overlook these tremors?