ashito

[ashito]

Mutiny

It’s a cruel thing to ask of me. It doesn’t come easily, nor does it leave me without a trace, a scratch it made while trying to take me with it. There’s nothing to it and everything seems already on its way out. If you were to source me, operate the mechanisms you hold dear, on me, how would you go about it? Would you show me something, anything? Or do you know the blind too well to believe in the goodness of my heart? So maybe you will leave me, and I will love you for it, once I’m on a side I conquered. Hurt me, I ask, because I’m too much of a flower to do it myself. Throw me in a lion’s cage, and don’t let me find peace, or comfort, don’t let me believe there’s anything to be found. How old am I, how old do I want to be? Oh, hurt me, sick whisperer, a trail of blood must be seen. Someone must see my face. Once. Someone I don’t and won’t know. Someone has to see my face. I understand nothing, can only make out the echoes that reverberate in my skull, and I take those songs for the fabric of the universe. I’m a coward, despite my best intentions. Nothing remains of me, nothing. I hold nothing dear; I try my hardest not to. I wouldn’t know where to begin, I recoil everytime I touch it. Every time I touch me. Others, what do I touch? Their skin, the only thing I allow myself, what my body in motion has to encounter in its journey. I touch their skin and cannot look further. The same way I avoid their eyes, I avoid anything that resembles a soul if I don’t know for certain I’ll have the integrity of mine once the baring has passed. What has become of me? What will? Where will I recognise myself? When will I recognise someone else?

[ashito]

Loudness is youness

I said I understood adoration, you said nothing I said « hurt, it surrounds », you said nothing I said I pulse at your command, you said nothing I said my trachea exploded, you said nothing

What shoulder, or leg, what lung should I give for you to say something to me What dress should I rip for you to call for me

You kept me quiet at the cusp and I remain, limbless in your grasp, reeling from something that never came, and nearer, each time it seems, until it vanishes in negative transparency.

You gathered me on your palm, lover amongst lovers, woman amongst women, handbones amongst flesh, flesh amongst rotten air.

And your name feels too common for me to say to you, my stranger, my myriad monster, my nothing, of everything without my eyes

I came nearer.

Close, when you come for my breast, bones on dry, it is of you and nothing of me to take, all to be made, when you gasp for air it closes my mouth and destroys my flesh, burnt to a crisp with your eyes, with a laugh. Dried, close, raw, mould

Iron taste in the back of my mouth, I wonder if I'll ever bleed out of my nose again

Simple comfort, I’ll touch your lips. Simple marrow, I’ll lick your teeth

I came nearer.

[ashito]

Your cradle and your slope

If there ever was a place for me to go, it was your house and your head.

Feet go far, the white of my eyes is a changeling, when I furrowed the blade in the lateness of her neck, they were egg yellow.

When I put my hand on his head, when I ruffled his feathers, I was looking out to the white of yours, there never was an absence, never enough to think of you.

Thirty birds walk to my home, black robes to take me to their court, my whites are a vitreous blue, of near deliverance.

My muscles are strong, my hands grip the wood, and every summer there is a coup. They can’t make me win.

Her gift laid bare was an angel that would recognise my face. I told her I grew sap out of concrete soil, and it shaped the curve of my eyes.

To bore the whites would be to drape my hair, make my neck go up to my ears, and to put my hand on the beautiful bone of your head.

I bought a house, and you know it is yours. When we will arrive tonight, you can lock me out.

[ashito]

Haven

And if I was to follow you home Would you die on my knees Mouth dry from youth And if the sky turned green In the eye of the bird that flew from you Would it hurt the same as the birth of my kid And to blink Is to suffer The black of your bones Piercing through red sun intact In the harbour I flung Shoes and tubes Nowhere is seen the hand that went through me in the shallow of my life Crawl crossed zephyr

A-gain and A Gain and A gain And a-gain And A-gain and …

[ashito]

Cryshif

Surly faces of gold follow men in the deepest of caves

If they look in the hole that marks their mouth, they would see a rancid touch of light, shaped like the first-born

Out of it, polyhedral gasps mock men for their tortured lack of claws, blunt arm to reach.

[ashito]

Sinusoid Call of God

I’ve been trying to take you out each footstep a shadow in your wake, tiptoeing at the edges of the ones who sired your length. Martyred creature of God, you don’t even know your name. Aeons ago, nothing would have brought me to your lap, now I beg like a dog grieving on my master’s grave, least loyal thing on earth. The least of the horror has passed nothing will be worse than the success to come. Sinusoïd call of God, you don’t know you make me believe. Marrow to throw, soil to keep, I’ll hope for your birth and you’ll hope for mine, endless spiral caving in soft slow and out of reach. At all the cruxes I turn a blind eye, I don’t even see my own way. 

[ashito]

My favourite section from the song Venus by Alain Bashung (my favourite singer), from his 2008 album Bleu pétrole

The choir in the back

[ashito]

Where was the journey I was promised ? I had desecrated places, lived amongst people who wore my flesh yet spat on my face, laid on mattresses soaked of those that had laid before, found rest in dirt of matter and dirt of mind, walked freely in hate because through it was every recognisable face, and the journey of my hand was to reach out without ever looking, and being reached back, without ever being undressed of our foreign natures of men.

And now that I am known, my hand has been cut off, and nothing remains of what it was, not even an echo of what was reached. It is like it was never here, except I am handless, and I know from somwhere in my mind, or somewhere other than here, that humans have hands, and I am human. I had been and I had lived, because it is the way things still are and live, but none of it could be named in me, and what I talked about were words I had never pronounced, sounds that never existed in the first place.

And so, who was to blame for events I couldn’t even fathom were to have any meaning.

[ashito]

TRESSÉS

[ashito]

One of my first attempts on krita

[ashito]

Dead armour

Touch me, free me, bathe me. Dead armour. 

Feel my pain as it courses from by bosom to your name. Dead armour.

I would be begging you to stay, and asking you when you’ll come back, and you’d kiss my teary eyes, one by one, whispering in between « my love, my love, my beautiful love. »

Your carcass followed me to the fringes of the flesh. Dead armour.

You split in two a horse’s leg. You promised me the same fate. Dead armour.

See what I myself manipulated, the coarseness of my lies. Untie it. Deliver me from being. Dead armour.

Embrace my failures and my rotten desires. The scattering of my soul. Dead armour.

I bled out of my mouth, my neck and my palms to call for you. Dead armour.

[ashito]

My favourite section from The Experiment by Cristobal Tapia de Veer, composer of the utopia soundtrack

[ashito]

My favourite section from the 2022 single Billions by Caroline Polachek, my favourite of hers

Headless angel, body upgraded but it's dead on arrival