Blue Elevator Teeth
The clock forgot my name and kept ticking anyway, spilling seconds like loose change in a coat pocket. I followed the sound down a hallway that bent softly, as if it were thinking about becoming a circle. Someone laughed inside a lamp, and the light flickered with embarrassment. My hands were busy translating dust into stories I almost believed. Nothing needed to make sense because sense was still asleep.
Moss in the Typewriter
Words crawled out of the keys slowly, green and damp, leaving smudges of meaning on the page. I let them wander because direction felt too loud. A memory of rain argued with a memory of fire, and neither of them won. Somewhere, a door practiced being open without committing. I kept writing so the silence wouldn't notice me.
How the River Counts
The river counts in breaths, not numbers, and I tried to keep up. Each inhale pulled a different sky into my chest. Stones whispered advice that sounded useful until I understood it. Time leaned against the bank, pretending it wasn't watching. I waved back anyway.
Spare Thoughts on a Sunday
Sunday arrived carrying a box of unfinished thoughts tied with fraying string. I opened it carefully and let the smaller ideas escape first. They ran under the furniture and rearranged the dust. Larger thoughts sat quietly, pretending to be furniture themselves. By evening, the room felt fuller without adding anything.
A playlist for the album can be found here.
Titles conceived, composed, arranged and performed by Mike Dickson
(c) 2026, Black Cat Music Factory