Only here to watch you slay me. Moonlight shines through onto that little space on the floor in the kitchen where you first made me cum. I can look down at it now, here as I prepare for battle, and smirk. I remember the ways our bodies practically melted together into the oak floor. I recall looking sideways to the stainless steel refrigerator and smiling one of those grins that I thought died off my face. I picked up your face in that moment and for once I didn’t see anything sinister. I was distracted by that horniness that I get when traveling, when plunking my ass down in a new city for ‘good’ this time. So I forgot, in the rush of my own zeal of life, to check for signs you’re an apathetic abandoner. Until last night when you were inside me and I looked into that same sweet spot in the fridge and couldn’t see my face anymore.

Maybe, it’s the wear and tear of appliances that I’m all a blur; but I doubt it. I gave up all my energy, all my spark, all the freshness of new beginnings of this trek from NYC to LA I took to discover a new life, because you set my world alight. I wanted to believe in promise, and now all I want to do is watch you slay me.   Maybe I’ll regain my confidence in that crucial moment, but I think I’m far too gone down the rabbit hole of this romance to resist your love stabs. I traded all the promise of the moment for your sweet solicitation of my spirit and my semen.  So, I’ll face you clad in my boxer briefs– hands leaned against the counter, hip posture jaunty and hostile awaiting for whatever you say to leave me gutted. I’ve got nothing left to lose but time–give me a ghost of a chance of haunting your heart.

This remix is killer, perhaps figuratively. It has those Hot Chip/Old-era Holy Ghost! horns that force repentance or at least a solemn stare at one’s life. As you count beats into your wine glass, the  melodies will carry you into whatever countenance you need to face. It’s a perfect example of the illuminating nature of dark indietronica.

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