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Spoken version
A recorded reading of “Library Flood (Liquid Wax)”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
I held the dam with my bare hands, called it control—called it fine— stacked every memory into neat rows, alphabetised the mess so it wouldn’t show. But wax went warm at the margins. Gold ink started blooming—slow, then sudden— spilling out of notes I’d pressed flat, seeping through paper like heat through cloth. The book kept opening wider, wider, spine-glue loosening with a soft, wet sigh as if it was finished with my edits. If it’s coming, let it come. I stop bracing my jaw. I stop keeping the air hostage. Let the wave have its name. —page-rush. Distant thunder under the stacks— Let it pour. I won’t hold my breath any more. Let it flood the hallways of my chest till the hurt can’t rent there like before. Let it pour. I won’t hold my breath any more. If the past is ink, let it run— I’ll watch what it was trying to form. Pages flip like storm-wind— paper clapping, then going soft, catalogue cards pulping at the edges, type bleeding into a watercolour blur. My hands are shaking, but I stay— palms on the desk, feeling the tremor pass through. Receipts lift, curl, dissolve to grey, every little “I’m okay” I stapled down coming unstuck without a fight. A dehumidifier hum starts up somewhere— a low, steady throat in the back room— warm air trying to make a future. Shelves swell and groan. A tide-line climbs the wall in pencil-light, marking what I refused to measure. Pastel creatures swim the neon current, glassy as bookmarks, seam-lit and calm, towing a ribbon of bright thread through the murk like “this way”— not saving me, just showing there’s still direction under all this. —wax-drip ticks turn to rain— Let it pour. I won’t hold my breath any more. Let it flood the hallways of my chest till the hurt can’t rent there like before. Let it pour. I won’t hold my breath any more. If the past is ink, let it run— and let the stamps blur into something truer than a clean impression. In the silence right before the crash, I hear my own name— not shouted, not corrected— just spoken once, plain as a label slid into its slot. (beat returns, wide) I don’t come out untouched. I come out unhidden. Let it pour. I won’t hold my breath any more. Let it flood the hallways of my chest till the hurt can’t live there like before. Let it pour. I won’t hold my breath any more. Ink-bloom, shelf-swell, rain on bookcloth— and when the last spine finally lets go, the hinge-chime rings once, bright as glass under water— tick.
Lyrics
I held the dam with my bare hands Called it “control,” called it “strength” Stacked every memory in neat rows So nobody saw the mess But the wax got warm at the margins Gold started running in lines And the book kept opening wider Like it was done with my lies If it’s coming, let it come I’m done bracing for the wave I’d rather drown in honest feeling Than keep pretending I’m saved Let it pour I won’t hold my breath anymore Let it flood the hallways of my chest Till the hurt can’t live there like before Let it pour I won’t hold my breath anymore If the past is ink, let it run I’m not scared of what it’s for Pages flipping like a storm wind My hands are shaking, but I’m here Receipts turning into smoke All the little “I’m okay”s Finally learning how to crack Pastel creatures swim through neon Not panicking, just free Like they’ve seen a thousand endings And none of them were me I’m not breaking, I’m becoming This is water, not a grave If I shake, it’s just my body Learning how to be brave Let it pour I won’t hold my breath anymore Let it flood the hallways of my chest Till the hurt can’t live there like before Let it pour I won’t hold my breath anymore If the past is ink, let it run I’m not scared of what it’s for In the silence right before the crash I hear my own name, clear and clean No sermon, no punishment Just a door where I’ve been (beat returns) I don’t need to be untouched I just need to be true Let it pour I won’t hold my breath anymore Let it flood the hallways of my chest Till the hurt can’t live there like before Let it pour I won’t hold my breath anymore If the past is ink, let it run I’m not scared of what it’s for
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