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Now he's here
and now he's gone,
evaporated from a skin that once bled into impressions of tobacco sinking heavy in the skin of the wall.
And they all got drunk and told the story of the time he cut himself upon the sharp, red edge of a rake
but did they know it then as he was bleeding that he saw through them, and what he wanted to say:

"Will I die unfelt
and then become unfeeling?"

And what are these words, these tools
we used to bridge the gap,
a gap left when the periodic table takes a look at itself through the eyes of something fated to end.
As if song you knew were leaking out of a car, in some dream I watched myself detached from afar
where I let myself be pulled down to the grass and worms around and called out my greatest fear:

Will I die unfelt
and then become unfeeling?

...and the sun's pouring out like she always has
and the atoms that make me
will go on without me

down all the streets I'd bike past when as a child the summers were fleeting
where strangers would forget my shape as the light would dim,
When they were like films to me and I was always a ghost to them

who'd see a picture tracing just how all the muscles move;
see the channels of marrow,
and see it watching its shadow

from the sun pouring out like she always had
from the atoms that made me
that went on without me
to form things more wholly...


from Nothing is Hidden, released February 19, 2014



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Augustine Fic Chicago, Illinois

I am a solo musician/composer, who studied sound engineering. My focus is on combining the organic sound of live-recorded, original material, and electronically editing it in a style influenced by artists like Venetian Snares and The Books.

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