It looks like a luxury, and it is. I wait for the simple reason that I can. In common arithmetic, the chain is visible. I walk in an open air confessional. Rather than amass, I continuously disperse in the gaps between molecules, in solitude.
It is possible, though not logical, that this will devastate the tribunal, but when I see the inside of my own face, when I sense the slippery taste of tamarind on my gums and the sting of wet smoke in the lining of my eye, I hold your picture to the tip of my nose and lose focus until your body becomes my own.
from Cargo Cult (2015),
released June 5, 2015
Vocals and production by Logan Spencer
Guitars and production by Matt Morgan