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Desolate Pop

by Yacob

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1.
Meaning Slowed (free) 00:17
meaning slowed in blood and forgot i have been and am now not
2.
Arm Break (free) 00:57
some one in this room is trying to break my arm not a false alarm not a false alarm everytime i break my arm i call your name in pain do you feel the same do you feel the same? hairline fractures in your grip im flattered pleasures all mine fractures in your hairline flattered fractured
3.
Dour Pop (free) 02:15
slip on the bathmat crack and leak like an egg i dropped all of the things i was carrying in my head see them roll across the bathroom tiles i'll stuff them back in in a little while they're coming with pins and weights to specimenize me and ask why the long face? they're coming with pitchforks and gauze to rid the town of me and bat me with their paws no one cleans this corner of floor
4.
Forgot the Air Holes (free) 02:33
It was a bright morning when i climbed up the pistil of the flower in which i live. I plucked large chunks of pollen off of my appendages. The sun took up every side of my lines of sight but my perception was flawed. Everything was in cutup time. I would speak words which would hang in the air for a moment, evaporate, and then never have been. Nothing but the present existed, a stuttering film reel with the end-passing-in developing in hazy realization, and the end-passing-out being burned up immediately. My surroundings became concrete and i felt my place more firmly in the century i had been told in which i live. something was rolling across my body, stopped me in my steps. a sensation, a premonition. i turned around. as far as i could see up the city blocks were thousands of marching riot cops, faceless in gas masks ad helmets, carrying rifles, flash bang grenades, tear gas canisters, plastic shields. converging all towards my person. i began to run, looking for any alley to duck into but every building was cemented to the one next to it, windowless, doorless. This entire city is two massive walls and they forgot the air holes. My breath speeds up and is soon disappearing, i am hyperventilating. there is no more oxygen to grab into my tender esophagus, i see the molecules of O2 quickly running away from me, they have been informed by the police and are co-conspirators. i collapse onto the asphalt. Aren't there any tiny particles to breathe anywhere?? i see floating gonorhea, syphillis cells, but no more air. i turn to face the encroaching cops, the suns reflection obscuring any details in their faces. under one of the plastic face shields i see a bit of paper dangling. as the foremost pig nears, the lines in his face resemble a poorly cobbled together papier mache ovoid. i have a matchbook in my pocket, pull it out, light one and throw it. The police recoil, throw up their hands, and are all consumed in rapidly moving fire as they press limb to limb. They quaver like a field of windblown sunflowers, faces towards the sun, stamen and pistil tongues rolling out of their mouths in pain, petals of flame encircling their heads. Then they wither and die and crumble to ash, and are sucked heavenward/into the grey clouded sky by a cyclone of hot wind. It is the fastest season i have ever seen.
5.
Go Eat Worms (free) 01:53
we're dead leaves and it is with certain sadness that one moves about in our presence we fall silent we fall silent a slight melancholy slight not becuz it is infrequent but because it weighs little hovers about us very slight we fall silent guess i'll go eat worms and die the heart of me is hollowed out brittle riddled with residual pains and pangs and creeping gout love in this world i start to doubt pains and pangs n creeping gout love in this world i start to doubt guess i'll go eat worms and die we fall silent a slight melancholy slight not becuz it is infrequent but becuz it weighs little hovers about us like dead leaves the melancholy slight it is with certain sadness that one moves round in our sight
6.
Dead Inside (free) 02:54
sorry i cant do anything today im dead inside im sorry i cant adequately repair your feelings im feeling dead inside the cells in my insides have navigated them countless times been chopped into tiny pieces fed to each other and gorged themselves to death and now im dead inside im sorry i cant go out tonight my interior field of lillies has been razed and scorched like iwo jima and now im dead inside everything i cared about has ceased to exist or is barely doing so and im dead inside i am turning to drugs as an escape from rather than confronting my feelings and this is resulting in my being dead inside i need to find a useful purpose for this hollow shell like strapping on explosives and walking into a flock of riot cops because im already dead inside any sort of prose or poetry written by me will endlessly be about death or bodily injury on account of being dead inside jacob's closed for being dead inside until further notice dead inside
7.
if no one loves me then the parasites love me my fluids of life are their life fluids my hard work makes them work hard my slow death is their reward the social networking sites could never offer me this i could never find this sort of fulfillment on a mailing list there are billions more of them than you just do the math you may criticize but my friends have more biomass everyone has forsaken social alienation creative isolation don't shoot me down out of the clouds feeding of the five thousand dust mites if i eat my skin with them i can feed it to them twice my other friends crawl beneath the headboard when i'm dreaming my veins are their sewers everyone has forgotten im a fallen tree rotten for fungus and omnivores symbiotic but i know its much more im a delicate ecosystem i wish i could eat me with them quiet, theyre going to speak! we appreciate your sacrifice joyful feasting on your life segmented appendages wave to me from the other side i made it thru the black hole itchy and ill i have survived
8.
Not Very Much (free) 00:52
there is light there is hope but theres not very much there is love there is depth there is warmth in your touch canned goods batteries and a gallon or two prolonging and waiting for what must ensue theres not much good left in man kind feel the rocking hear the blasts watch them vomit taste the gas last bulb illuminating fate of two human hands there is light there is hope but theres not very much there is love there is depth there is warmth in your touch
9.
Shout Outs (free) 02:20
10.

about

recorded Nov 2011-Feb 2012, primarily in an attic and a bathroom. all instruments by yacob. copyright 2012 Albacore Records, "J'Arrive" by Jacques Brel.

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released February 24, 2012

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all rights reserved

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Albacore Records Oakland, California

Albacore Records was started in Mobile, AL in 2001 by Yacob as a means of releasing small runs of musical projects, usually in cd-r or tape form. Now in Oakland, CA. This website will be used to document the most recent creative outpourings of these various projects. Releases by KLACTOVEEDSEDSTENE, THE SACK EM UPS, TFFW'z, JIBBER AND TWITCH, YACOB, and SISSY FISTS. Yacob also sings in OVER. ... more

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