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The First Words We Heard Were Dirt (So Now We Are Digging)

by Jayson Nessi

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1.
Explain to me how this is going to work... You, enjoy this:
2.
Your Parents 03:34
the tiniest pair of shoes we could find you weren't really shoes, at all we grabbed them that week the weather stopped it took a small hole, so that we could leave the rest of ourselves, before we returned so here they are: laces like silly wet spaghetti strings two worn heels, to match your dreams an upside down tongue, for your ideals and though it may seem the result of our work remain concealed you just wait for us here, and close your eyes for what feels like the warmest amount of time, until... everything you taste is pink, and everything you feel is white, and your only smell becomes peptides
3.
The Worms 03:39
I can see the rainbow better, with my sunglasses on what holds me to this irony? love is the worms you find, after a rainstorm regret guilt shame are the worms you find, after a rainstorm
4.
Their Mask 03:30
we've been looking for new ways we've been looking for new ways we've been looking for new ways (to ask our fathers, not to wear their mask at the dinner table) and if it were socially acceptable, I would lie down right now, right there, underneath that table and I would act as if this were my cabin-- as if the snow outside, was like the snow outside my cabin and each and every one of your legs are my aunts, uncles, and dogs there's an attic and it's dark, and red, and broken and there's a trunk of stuff for me to look through so that I can act disinterested and I used to be here and our father, used to be here but now, you can only see a ghost now, you can only hear a ghost but now, you can only feel a ghost
5.
Our Ghost 02:00
6.
Thoughtveins 02:43
crying from the back of his head the last one left in some war his fists felt the same
7.
The Warmth 01:28
some years ago we would wait for the bus in the cold and the snow and when it would come I would feel lucky just to sit next to somebody and imagine tangible the warmth they shared me and then I would sit in the library and stare into the white and hope that I might die and wish that I would die
8.
if I had a whole in my heart maybe I'd have a (w)hole heart sometimes I feel like most of us deserve so much worse than hell so what do we scream when we are just "okay"? and how do we dream while we are awake? the politicians and the preachers are packing it in they're heading home to the natures they've forgotten when the sun comes up will you promise to do the same thing so that we can draw you in circles again? and when the sun goes down will you hold your tongue just long enough to forget your sin? they're throwing dirt upon our living coffin distracting us with new beds to mess and to make but if I had half a clue of who I am, or what I knew I might find a light to shine through so what do we scream when we are just "okay"? and how do we dream while we are awake? if I had a hole in my heart maybe I'd have (w)hole have a whole heart have a whole have a whole heart
9.
deep inside you set far across your sadness, five words ring out: you were born a number
10.
watching our parents grow old sitting on the fence grass is there a bug is there a hair falls from my sister's tongue and I know it's mine and so I smile and then our parents, they watch us grow up and fall off the fence my insides, they choose their sides my sister cries and for a second, I almost admit that I closed my eyes in the thick but when we let our milky fingers find their own they rarely let us down and they never take us home
11.
the parents are weeping for their childhoods again "so much time in the kitchen!" preparing meals for the children whose names they still confuse so often the garden outside the window playing muse a revolving machine, a planet whose gravity you wish you held do you believe you still may sprout wings? is that what haunts your dreams? your spine spilling its soil sparks peeling from your fingertips your tongue closing its eyes swelling sweating spinning spitting the calendar blending in to your reflection refrigerator finger-paintings slipping from their flippant position the skylight becoming your jail and the mirror of escape and when the snow hides our green traces so shall the sun come down to reflect our within and when the rain finally falls to bring out the bugs let every single one of them kiss my skin
12.
I'm bringing bricks to your words and I'm building sidewalks and doorsteps and I've got a trail across your tongue that leads deep within your lungs where I am finishing my home around the breaths you've yet to know speak your words as rooms and I'll stand speak your words as rooms and I'll stand in this one clothed in the blackboard backs of your sleepless eyelids even the half-truths feel fact threatening you with what you need to move on but are you not so safe in your middle-place? but are you not so safe in your middle-place? but are you not so safe? the naked and still night some sort of wicked reverse to lead you on or to melt you whole or to remind you the single, simple truth that the only secret any human ever keeps that the only secret any parent ever keeps that the only secret any child ever keeps is their own mortality (so never fear you are always here) (and don't be silly you Are god)
13.
there are probably still a few good reasons nobody knows me my trees are misshapen and when I lie down I start to grow from the very, very, very from the very, very, very and if I knew which dreams caused this I could rectify them from below I would dig deeper than you could follow

about

On September 6th, 2010, Jayson Nessi purged his belongings, bought a one-way ticket to Hawaii and spent months discovering what it was like to live effectively “homeless” among the beach-dwellers of the windward side of the Hawaiian island of Oahu. His neighbors drug-addled, the ocean his only friend- the sun, wind, and rain his on-again, off-again lovers, he spent the last of his money on a ukulele and spent the majority of the time he wasn’t searching for food on writing an album. Months into being generally lonely and occasionally maniacal, dumpster-diving food and applying Neosporin, Jayson finally sought refuge on a farm and began recording his first album-

‘The First Words We Heard Were Dirt (So Now We Are Digging)’,

His two albums, The First Words and The Last Words are a deliberate, tangible manifestation of Jayson Nessi's understanding of the duality present in the nature of reality, as well as the manner in which this duality manifest inside of himself. They tell the story of a young man first lost, digging as far within himself as possible, searching for the reasons for who, why and what he is-- and then later, after finding himself buried deep within his lonely and starved heart, the journey of climbing back up and outward into the often-times loveless modern world.

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released January 1, 2014

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Jayson Nessi Chicago, Illinois

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