it s in the margin of inertia s gauzy exaltation it s always harboring the need for some preoccupation he brought his borders forth across the mossy forest floor and i bury these messages cause this form is mine not his realign my thoroughfares they may not be just what he s wanting that s okay the one i m on is good enough to keep the hours counting don t let the ardor cease or trivialize the rising sea and i hide these missives to prove this is mine not his with a lack of fanfare and lack of source dreams and barriers settle the course deadened nerves become cold to the touch forgo feeding the fire too much if he s to place our salvation behind some weathered doorway he may distract us with the details laid into its carpentry
['ambient', 'compositional ambient', 'drift', 'drone', 'shoegaze', 'warm drone']