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Phosphorus Lost

by Mocking Cricket

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Tread the footfalls. Fall down breathless. Scatter petals, Pink and restless. Would you wander Where the light fades? Ultraviolet, Sweet on new shades… If you would sin like cinnamon, Cardamom, clove, Get a mouthful of sugar, Tiptoe over the ghosts, You would get rich like criminals But gentle as lovers. All creatures of sun, Come on and turn the day over. Dicentra spectabilis, Lantern of hearts. Not all who fade Go traveling. Not all who glow As phosphorus Are lost.
Playing it cool, or playing it dead, Another fucker calling you a space cadet, A hand on your thigh, unsolicited— The blood spills the oil slicks! Laugh at the joke, dagger the eyes— The vitriol aftertaste of playing it nice. Deescalate till they apologize And go try it again with the next guy. A parking lot charlatan, mercurial lies. An enfant terrible of peculiar size says “We could build anything! We scuffed up the skies! We built this strip mall here twenty thousand times! We did it for Jesus Hellfire Christ.” A bird on a wire, a ripening debt, A bit of witty banter at the laundromat, The tick of the clock, the click of the flint— The blood spills, the oil slicks!
Cheap Chills 03:12
Crack an egg over your head Let the yolk trickle down Stab a knife in your back Let the blood trickle down Hey mister, Were you in somebody’s whisper? Cause you seem a bit familiar, And I think you’re good like blisters Are on pretty spindle fingers. What’s the value of a penny Anymore within a world Of many double-jawed and slipping, Hidden, moray-hearted morals? Hey mister, could you lend me Better wisdom, or a token for the ferry? I’m afraid to look within ya But the view right through is fine. I came to go get lost, but warn Me when you get behind me…
So you fled to the greyhounds a couple of years— Let’s say peripatetic; it sounds less pathetic Than what’s really happening here. Said you wanna want nothing to impress girls in bars, Then you ran from the Void like you’d run from the wars! Well wouldn’t you like to be something lackadaisical? Coat down to where your shin splints go, And crafty like a jackal—oh! Wouldn’t you like to leave everything forgettable, If only for a minute? Well, you won’t be none worse for it no! We could all be designers, and wouldn’t that be grand? The architects kicked you around like a can, And the chosen one stories they fed made you sore. (They never said what the kid gets chosen for.)
Unless 02:57
Every lonely heart Must have their portion of the tart, But how the wildlife murmur thirsty Every time it gets a little dark! Oh don’t you startle. Don’t you start. Oh will you won’t you Don’t you startle? Look away and never feed them, Not unless you know you’re dreaming, And they offer you a real good deal… Every beggar soul’s in stitches, Patching back to wholeness, Like it’s holy to be broken, And what’s golden runs a little cold. You look away and never feed them, Not unless you know you’re dreaming, And they offer you a real good deal…
You were soaked in indifference
 & Staggering lost in a fraudulent Body you altered beyond The ease of that vandal, The angry man’s god. The region of the heart was made To herd your warmth and scoop the flock From dusted windows, brittle & blocked With hoary cobweb mesh occluding Splendor of a caliber to rattle & trip A ruby-crusted king. They named the curtains Sacrifice, But honey, what if there were no such thing? You got key lime pie tenderness Where your scroll and candle sorrow Says it’s gonna rain spiders and shadows. It’s gonna rain shadows with minds Like starving romantics, and edges Like crescent-eyed winter! Well, we were never not all gonna die. It’s an artist’s work to know the score, And tell an honest lie. It’s an artist’s work to long To become Ever Yours, Sweet Whomever, Yet still to keep Oneself one’s own, Or a little of both, Or whatever.
No Pressure 03:12
Riff-raff catched By scruff of the neck— Oh bless you rapscallions From now to your final breath! Bless you all sideways Where the wind swept, & Bit your ankles Clear through your kicks. Ten below zero Was hardly the worst of it— Cold nowhere chilling As what the cold meant. Ad-astra-trapped And rougher than rage, But sweeter than carrion Under the scavenger gaze, Brazen enough to go Dog-ear a library page, Do us the honor of Quelling forefathers’ ways! A Five Years’ plan— Hubcaps for your hearse Can wait till you’re old & gray— Let’s all hope (though it hurts). No pressure no pressure— The rest of us fucked up worse....
Willowing 03:59
Who would go willowing? Weeping and bent For a darling, a day, an indulgence well spent? Spangled and Boschean, longing to cling To what’s gorgeous, distorted, wrong-wired, and fevering! Ants on the peonies and under the steps, And a snakebite to suck on. De-venom your Hesitance. Angel, be doe-eyed and caked-in-mud Decadent. Spit out the poison and sample the rest. Fragrances cloying and wooded and green Swizzled lazily, glass-locked, are not what they seem, Like the mirror plays tricks When my tattoos read foreign to me. Let’s have more marginalia, less prayer in between. Let subtext be subtle, don’t ask what it means. Take this vellum and make it absurd or obscene, So longs as spectacular, prismatic and glowing. I’ve been wearing the cloak of the East. And not only to hide in; I like how it feels. I would rather be realer than velveteen any day, If there’s a way to stay soft on the surface And wooden beneath… Then again, it’s a beast to go locating Rabbits while pressed among leaves. I’d rather be anywhere nearer to dearer, If there was a way to stay solid Without getting lost in between. Ghosts in the willows gone casting the dice. I might braid up my ghost in the ghost of whoever might Bend the rusted edge of me and brush it to singing, As lakes sing from underneath inches of ice.
Don’t be jealous Of the stillness Of a stone— All stones have quickness, But it’s not our place To witness. I can be a cold as cold as bells, Ex-woman full of blood as Navy blue as bells, The ink of something deep Out from the bones expelled. I can be a cold as hot as Hell. I can be a cold as cold as bells, Un-woman full of blood as Navy blue as bells, The ink of something deep Out from the bones expelled. I can be a cold as hot as Hell.
Feather Down 02:22
Nature loves to feel composed and chilling, flopped at angles, projectile-spitting dramaturgy, full of strange sensation, tempered and terrible, pink and spilling. I saw a vision of lecturing stars, smirking above another city’s languid dialectics. Life is a fascinating wrath-basket, a wretched and moth-worn joker, a nebula spilling out from cornucopia of lacerating dreams. Why not befriend the art in it— Dissolve into juxtaposition? History’s venom tingles like menthol and store-bought forgiveness. Tell Love we have a fist-full each of fervor, grief, and goose down shadows. We could make wings from queer limbs like penumbrae, get Void-fucked and glow on the right side of madness! Let’s refuse consciousness. Rest from all poison. Rest with the weight of a stone O’er the cavern and cloth of you, Not with the black and blue Crush of a toxin enshrouding a toxin. And of gosling fever And feather down shades, Ever let there be Euphoria That tastes like snow Before it’s spoiled.
Lucid 04:15
Lay me down deep Like I could be enough to keep Myself a traitor to the blood(y) world Of justices, their soldiers, and their ledgers. Trip or tip-toe down the steep hill— The church beneath the steeple spills A carnival of people, clamor-ramaling Like little bees, but evil. Sweet Cecilia, bless me lucid! I’d gone sippin’ on the wormwood Longer than it felt good to… Now I see ya in the fields Where all the French boys painted petals With their viscera— they’ll do it again soon. Ohhhh… I bet you didn’t know how bad a shadow could bleed. I bet you didn’t know how long a trickle could seep. I bet you didn’t know how fast the gaps in between. I bet you didn’t know how far a shadow could scream! Lay me down deep Like I could be enough to keep Myself a traitor to the blood(y) world Of justices, their soldiers, and their ledgers, And meet me where the sleepers fall for fun. Drag me where the cloth of dreaming Cossets what we love! And let me crawl Out of me So I can breathe!
You’re down begging the dust To eclipse your love When the light is too loud to look upon. You got a swallow-tail tongue, And a heart of worms, Pathway palms and crown of wicked corona! Wouldn’t you like rococo eyes? The citrus of moments impossible glazes our lips. Tell slapdash & strawberry mischief to spatter Our horrible memories, gobble our weakness, And spit out the pips Like they’re trifling as the faithful were, Dismantled in drenched inflorescence. (Some folx love and some deserve When violets come to drink our essence!) You’ve gotten gooseflesh soft To shudder under the umbra— The kiss of no return, The crown of wicked corona! They caught you gawking at magnolias And called you silly women. They hung crinolines from the rafters, You imagined prima donnas in ‘em. Caught you flushing, called you scummy-- It just made you want a pond to swim in, Rich with sludge of tumbled garnets, Where the water snakes are gentlemen. Let’s get Fancy like the vicious young In crooked-gentle languor. Go powder up and don a ruff That complements your anger. You’re worth the blush of waxwing, Even bashful in your rarity. Toss your pauper’s baubles While mosaic tiles die to crack The monochrome containment of austerity. Go slink beyond experience And peacock at your enemies! Swallow the salt. Cling to the mud. Fall in the light. Turn belly-up. Eyes on your shoulders, spines on your spine, Find you what finery gets you to fine. Are we in poppies Or pop-a-possibilities?…


A playlist for your unrequited crush on the woods. Gentle-macabre visions of a more humane tomorrow. A smoky voice and a questionable life decision.

Your download includes a bonus, 38 page ebook of photography, paintings, essays, and lyrics when you purchase the full album!


released January 1, 2023

Written, arranged, performed, recorded, produced, photographed, and illustrated by Evvie "Evvin" Marin. Copyright 2023 Evvie Marin, all rights reserved.


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MockingCricket Massachusetts

Mocking Cricket is a one-man band by multimedia artist, Evvie/Evvin Marin (they/them). Gothic folk. A smoky voice & a questionable life decision.

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