089 Without Giving Them Names

ARCHIVE #089

Without Giving Them Names

Newbies Prompt Log AI

Track No. 089

Format: MP3 (320kbps)

Lyrics

Sunday afternoon, I declared a war on dust colonies under the floor old receipts, dead cords, a shirt I hate everything lined up to meet its fate I don't do nostalgia, I do space cold wet mop, blank clean face every object had to earn its place then I found that ceramic little thing ugly as guilt with a broken wing held it up, waited for a flash brain came back with functional or trash Functional or trash keep it or let it crash if I don't know the story then the story doesn't ask Functional or trash dust on a stranger's past you can call it love I call it taking up space too fast My brother looked like I had kicked a shrine said, "You don't remember? Man, that was your life" I said, "That's concerning, but before we unpack is this recyclable or do I need a bag?" He said, "She picked it for the broken wing said you liked things that survived badly" I said, "That's emotionally specific but structurally, a liability" Oh, previous me had feelings current me needs room if the heart won't load then the shelf gets moved He zoomed in on a photo me at a kitchen table holding that ugly little thing with both hands like it might fly away if I let go Nobody laughed which felt administratively unfair He showed me summer in every frame her hand on my shoulder, not posing just keeping me inside the picture He said, "How can you be this cold?" I said, "I'm not cold I'm just not enrolled" Error four-oh-four no lover found no sacred object just clutter on the ground Error four-oh-four no tears attached please select an option functional or trash He showed me December two mugs by the sink her coat on my chair like staying was ordinary He didn't say she waited he didn't have to I said, "That's sweet is any of it load-bearing?" A gift from a stranger is a stranger's thing a promise I made with a mouth I don't own Functional or trash I said it quieter now keep it or let it crash if the story doesn't ask Functional or — trash The object hit the bin with a dull little sound my brother walked out and the room held its breath Then my vision blurred just out of nowhere I blinked once, twice must be dust in the air A spot hit the hardwood then another then another I wiped them fast with the same cold mop without giving them names without giving them names "Right," I said softly to nobody there "I haven't cleaned in so long there's dust everywhere" The room was finally perfect functional wider than I had any use for anymore