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sleeping field

by sleeping field

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1.
There is something about that night that I still can’t quite wrap my head around, fractured into parts, and I’m piecing them together to understand its whole, to understand that maybe the lifestyle is getting old. The bottom of the bottle is not so friendly anymore. Maybe I ought to search for clarity elsewhere than in the shadows of this (god damned) city. Images of us driving in circles, getting stoned for six god damn years. “Choose with whom you spend your time wisely kid” I wish you’d have put more weight into these words. This morning my plate looked like a combination of splinters and needles, scraping my esophagus, sharp as shards. I think I might split this meal. These nights have taken more than they’ve left me with, I feel it in my bones. Caught my reflection in the kitchen window, it reminded me of your brother on Sundays, when he would sit at the table and stare at the wall. These nights are wearing me thin, or maybe they’ve just run their course, and I’m seeking something with a little more meaning than depression at sunrise. I’m trying to get better. I’m trying to get better, and if anything it’s for myself.
2.
Lithograph 03:41
This is becoming all too familiar, at the bottom was my signature on a painting of a shipwreck at sea, the captain refusing to abandon ship. Honestly I never meant to complicate things to the point where I left them. What was clear has become out of focus and somehow I managed to forget that my dress shirt on her shoulders, the answer to my problems. It see it in my… A picture, with no framework, dated last September. I see it in my sleep. At least I’ll admit that everything is on me. At least I’ll admit that I was never really trying. At least I’ll admit that it was probably fucking worth it. It was barely light when I woke up in a startle. Came to the conclusion that not all’s well, ends well. Is this the way to recovery? To talk about my failures?
3.
The room is lit by candles, it’s two AM and I'm trying to wrap my head around…with a cigarette on my lips I’m trying to wrap my head around life’s complexities. Never have these four walls been so constricting, this basement apartment will be the end of me. As the melted wax makes its way to the floor it’s safe to say that I won’t know much more. Because my thoughts have been so fucking circular, solving a problem only makes way for another. Night has this funny way of reminding me of all the things that I’ve come to miss. Watching lightning on the stones in the front yard, and the summer nights by the ocean in Jersey, spent reinventing the world. I swear that I’m this close to packing all of my things and heading for the coast. Right now there’s a pin on a map set for Meat Cove, where I’ll buy land, and build a home, care for cattle or become a fisherman. Wouldn’t that be the life?
4.
This is the kind of night where nothing seems to change. Fifteen missed calls and messages. “Are you still alive? Give me signs of life! Call me back I got something important to discuss, Max you’re such a fucking idiot”. When will you become more than just the sum of all your parts? Last time that I checked your problems seemed more than solvable or have you since then dug yourself a deeper hole? I just hate that you’d assume I’d drop everything. Honestly I’ve got enough on my plate, I’m not about to bite off more than I can chew. Chocking to death is my single greatest fear, so when you call me in the middle of the night don’t be surprised if I don’t answer and don’t bother to leave a message. Consider this a final letter to your name. Consider that we should never see each other. Consider that you should take a look in the mirror and consider I’m not the one to take you out of the gutter. I’ve got enough on my plate already. Maybe tonight is when everything’ll change. Maybe tonight is when the tide turns in your favor, and maybe tonight is when you come up with some answers. And that’ll be the day.

credits

released May 18, 2016

All songs written and recorded by Sleeping Field.
Mixed and mastered by Arsenii Foudimov.
Design and artwork by D. Niko Holmes (facebook.com/photoparfois).

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sleeping field Montreal, Québec

Loud emotional polyphonic hardcore band from Montreal, QC.

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