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i’m standing on the precipice/ it’s a cliff that i’ve prayed on before/ so much so that despite the fact that i don’t know if i believe in a god or gods anymore my fingertips they bear callouses/ my palms they bear callouses from pressing together so tightly/ i pray hard when i pray. i’ve often thought that this maw in front of us was the end of everything/a darkness that consumed all, a black hole/ do you know that we are made up of the same stuff that makes up the stars? so, what flows through us may not be just blood but stardust? and we are dying/ every second of every minute of every hour of every day brings us closer to that final day that final hour that final minute that final second that final breath/ which means when we run out of hydrogen we become giants, or super giants, or supernovas/ and if not that then we are simply stars whose ill-fated courses end in collision either way/ we’ll explode. with this in mind i reconsider the precipice there is something beautiful in its blackness isn’t there/ something wondrous in its persistence in swallowing us all? the end of everything is the beginning of a brand new everything/ the end of this universe may be the beginning of a brand new one so that even now when my heart feels like the most congested intersection the world it is waiting. i reconsider the precipice and so, in an effort to take part in reckless acts of self definition i jump/ as i fall/as i let that beautiful blackness take me into its folds i know that i will be okay in them/i know we, you and i, all of us/ we will be safe in its embrace.
Dave: It's cold in the yard. I don't know where to start. Everything is already tattooed somewhere. The real world doesn't want us in it. Everyone else knows how to swim, but how could you drown us? Bouyed by the wrath, and the air is thin, there's some halt in the way that things seem to work here Chris Z: the sun’s radiance reaches us in eight minutes but given its age/given the ever expanding nature of the universe somewhere, 4.5 billion light years away its solar winds are breathing fire for the first time/ its flares dancing through the dark to awaken the worlds at their birth. is our being this buoyant? is some celestial observer watching us through a series of glass lenses and mirrors, jotting down notes of years ago/maybe of his flight across the country from the the place he called home to the place i’ve always called home? if so, on what star, on what rock, does his life still shine? i’ve been tinkering with lead pipes and gunpowder/aluminum frames, fein saws and soldering irons/ steel. a fishbowl from the attic my astronaut’s helmet/ winter gloves, snow boots and overalls over a wetsuit to stave off the cold/a notebook of his thoughts to stave off the loneliness; infinity isn’t anything until you are among the stars searching for something you lost. let us hope that the duct tape holds/ and my misguided science and memories of his crooked coffee-stained smile can lead me to a world where his light still illuminates the days.
Chris Z: no one is invincible, no one is immortal/ these are the rules. fireworks have scared me shitless for three years now /easier to blame it on neuroses than admit that everything loud and sudden scares me now/ but i found out i still love the sight of them/ when the light of the setting september sun came through the leaves in scattered shards i was driving down the highway with my secrets. no one is invincible, no one is immortal. this time of year always reminds me of mitch/at noon in the shade there’s still dew on the grass/the leaves are trying on the coats they’ll wear to their funerals and without knowing it, as if it is coded into me i start to listen to ‘people without end’/the ways in which one leaves a place and the way a ghost becomes a part of you/ and some days this reminds me more of kyle than anything else and the times we spent wishing for the past/i think i’m through with that now/ i’ve got holes in me big enough that sometimes i can barely stay afloat but i’m starting to find that nothingness has the potential to be filled with anything our mind’s can imagine. everyone here’s story has been everyone here’s story since the big bang/ and no i’m not talking about your parents fucking, or even their parents’ parents’ parents’ fucking/ i’m talking about that fact that the things inside of you, the ones that matter/cannot be created or destroyed anymore/ not since this universe started and not until it ends. that’s how long we’re going to live. so when my body chooses to become something more/burn it/let the liquid in me dry up/let it crack like the leaves coating the driveway of the house i grew up in/divide me among the people i’ve love/and ask them this: on the day they find a place where stars are safe from everything but the brightness of the moon/scatter my ashes there so that that from which i came can witness that which i’ve become. no one is invincible, everyone’s immortal. Dave: If false and naive ideals will keep us working, sustained by people like you, like a televised old story, maybe that is what one is meant to have, sucking from the maimed and the crazed.
Thanks 01:47
When we get home we won't be empty, so thanks for your ears We found a purpose in each other, and as days turn to years We stretch our skin across the gaps, a magnet makes a mile shorter Break the mirror, we get younger Life will always be weird
Lioness 01:42
When I was with you we were an estuary/i don’t know if i come from the river or the sea/all i know is you are both my opposite and my reflection/and where we meet, all salt and mouth and convergence. we were the meeting point of a mountain and a valley/from a distance it is clear that we are inverted forms of one another/should our mountain crumble it would fill the valley to our brim/creating flatland where there was once chaos/but until that beautiful collapse we wonder where you begin and i end. we were two bodies/running out of room in this world/ we carved space in ourselves for the other to borrow. for the other to burrow/ i wake up sometimes with ghost traces of your lips on my bone/and my arms holding your phantom frame as you drift away. we were roots and soil/the splendor of a tide pool/we were giants. but for now we can’t swallow the things that separate us. lioness please grab me again by the scruff of my neck/and lick the wounds i’ve made trying to taste my own blood.
“you cannot defeat the darkness, you can only be the light” fuck that/at the core of night i couldn’t imagine anything i’d like less than to be the light/and in this i mean literal darkness/literal light & literal night/ why would i want to? i liked you like i like the dark. in it, i feel my body in a different way/because like when my body was with yours/in the dark my body doesn’t end at my finger tips/instead bleeding out into a space i can’t calculate the mass of but that i know is massive/i am a giant in these spaces/i am more than a giant/i am limitless/we are limitless. darkness is an unending container/ i am a gas seeking to fill its volume or dissipate to harmlessness within it/let myself be absorbed into something that i am also an agent of until it and i are both malleable. next darkness is the backseat of my dead best friend’s sisters car /and every potentially stubbed toe or missed step on the staircase/are the bobbing headlights that haunt your parent’s neighborhood/coming into focus through the fog/slowly bouncing towards us like specters while we lay silently in cover/ save for the percussion of our hearts and the exuberance of our lungs and every soft carpet fiber/every safely navigated hallway taking me deeper into dark is your charged touch sending jolts of current waltzing through my muscles/is your breathy way of saying my name. after the hallway i stumble to my bed/ isn’t this exciting? feeling out into a comfortable unknown/i can float out into the dark until i’ve reach land again/if there’s land to be had/if there isn’t that’s fine/i feel safer now floating out into the precipice. i liked you like i like the dark/why would i aim to defeat it?
$100 Tip 03:25
The buggy code of my internal workings keeps synced with my bad timing. That's flaw. The dead spot in between our ears keeps spreading. When we stand up, no one comes to ask, "Why is this backwards?" The alarm doesn't go off after you're awake. And especially that feeling you get when you meet someone who looks like you, that one hundred dollar tip, and a town, or a family, without enough money to keep itself alive.
Chris Z: most often the house is empty/and is if i were about to touch another for the first time again, my hands shake/as/i think the buzz us light/tickling the air like my hair tickles/my spine as it trickles down/water flows/would you help steady my hand/help make my coastlines less jagged? i think my name is safest in your mouth. Dave: Our wrong blood is in your history. How could you drown us out? Our wrong blood gives in. How could we give in?


released October 7, 2014

Produced, engineered, and mixed by Chris Teti at Silver Bullet Studios

Mastered by Dan Coutant at Sun Room Audio

Artwork by Ben Sears

Performed by:
Chris Zizzamia - poetry, snacks
David F. Bello - Vocals, guitar
Josh Cyr - Bass
Chris Teti - guitar
Katie Dvorak - synthesizer, vocals
Greg Horbal - some guitar but not much
Steven Buttery - percussion, sword production
Nicole Shanholtzer - guitar
Julia Peters - cello
Pat Malone - Trumpet


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The World is a Beautiful Place & I am No Longer Afraid to Die Philadelphia, Pennsylvania


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