I Want Nothing

by My Fictions

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We're offering the digital version of this EP for free. This record was released on 10" vinyl by Flannel Gurl Records. The 2nd pressing of this is now available.

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released June 24, 2011

Recorded, mixed, and mastered by Tyler Bradley
Album art by Rainbath Visual

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My Fictions Boston, Massachusetts

emotionally damaged bad boys

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Track Name: Same Grave
I don't know what to blame for why I shy away so much
But I'm taking steps forward towards facing all of my faults
Take my ego hostage; sign the ransom note as the holy ghost and bring my agnostic eyes to the pit of my chest, the sightline of my stomach because i can't digest a single thing about this place
And when I die I won't know anything and it won't mean a fucking thing
It's going to come down soon, I've been running scared I don't feel prepared
Oh my sweet serene, don't I love how you've been watching me?
I take the good with the bad, I guess, at least someone's watching, I validate my existence through self loathing
And when I look at my life, it's a procession through fluorescent lights
A synthetic sun I keep shying myself away from
And when I think of all the people I've wronged I just want to be left alone
But I'm forever stuck here to reflect
You know I hate how I get but this distance is developing
And I can't lie in the same grave for a week at a time in my ever-changing mind
This destiny draws into a black hole and I'm circling the drain as I wait for the end
Now I know why I'm afraid to die, I'm just so sick of crossing lines
and I feel as if I fucking hate myself
As if I can't relate to anyone outside my self
To anything at all, so sick of building walls
Like I scared my self out of it
Because whenever I leave the house I just want to go back inside
and I guess that's why I can't believe the myth that we are always moving forward
Track Name: Machinery
If apathy is a part of me then I am not where I need to be, I can't see myself in anything and I find myself so distant to everything in my life, and each day I seem to speak less I keep falling out of line. it's starting to sink in that I can't escape this cloud of depression. I don't know what I want, I don't know what to say but I'm tired of waiting for the seasons to change in this atmosphere of neglect. I know that everything I touch all slips away or starts to fucking rust. All the pain I go through is a lie I just can't tell, another year of feigned false suffering when honestly I feel nothing, and that's my struggle, it's not fair of me to put it on you but that clock's been burning minutes and I'm still drawing question marks most of the time. I don't think it's enough, I don't think it's fair to lie because what you go through deserves more than a few empty words about dealing with pain, especially when it's fake, especially when it's made. Because you don't feel the way I do, but i still sell myself to you. I am a manufactured product, I am synchronized and tuned to be the machine you need me to be. I am a product, you are a pawn, I am sorry but I cannot change how these lines are drawn, because acquaintance sells better than emotional anomaly so I tuck my contradictions into creases and when the wrinkles straighten out I'll be flattened into one dimension and you can stare at me until you figure me out. I've become an addict to this imagined self-mutilation but I never felt a thing other than exhaust and my daydreams don't stop, I've been pulling my teeth out. As far as I can see they're a currency, I've only got so much to give and my pain's become my bond. I don't lament my disconnect from the world around me; I just can't figure out what I need. It's all too much to take: the thought that all this is going to end up as regret, but will it matter in the end? So forget these words, I have an apathetic alibi: never cared, never will.
Track Name: I Am an Ornament
Days pass in symmetry, hollow hopes are all I see and the monotony disgusts me. I am forever plagued by neglected change but I don't want these days, just want to push away. Tell me are you an open man, or do you hold your hands where no one can see them, and do I care to know? Because I don't ever feel the need to talk to you about anything and I think I know what you want etched on your grave: "I stood by my mistakes." I know you don't feel the way I do, and I don't want you to because then I couldn't hold this misery like a trophy. I couldn't feel alone, couldn't feel elite in my grief. How many times have you laid in bed, slept through the night without a thought in mind? You see it's not the pain that I'm afraid of, no it's that constant threat of wasting time. And they always say that I could be getting more out of this but what's the fucking point? Don't want to give up hope but I think I caught the disease of this generation, of inconsistency. Ennui and apathy overtake me, because I believe in no mysteries, just locks and keys and the crumbling ground beneath my feet. I don't think I'll ever understand myself but I'll always try, yeah I'll always try to sing that song like I won't regret it and hum that hymn like I was born to believe it.
Track Name: Fortune Teller
I've been tracing out this misery trend, counting down the days 'til I'm alone again. I've been tracing out this misery trend and I don't know what to think. In every indifferent day I'm finding a new thing to hate. The days are changing but if feels the same to me. I'm watching everything slowly change. We're all flirting with the fractures and we will fall into the faults, misleading frames without those names to help sedate these nervous thoughts. Oh, how I hear them sing! A chorus of canyons echoing out to me, they're fucking ringing in my ears. But here I am with these hands digging holes that will never equate and I will never escape from this nervous feeling, this settling syndrome that plagues and betrays me. And I struggle so much, but for what? A meaningless memory I'll too soon forget. I wake up each day entirely blank wondering how I will force myself to feel that day. It's like the constant pangs of misery I feel are keeping the beat of my life. It's always burning the back of my head, making sure I don't forget. We all have our crutches, mine's a dying idea, I'm remembering dreams I never had but it's all the same to me because I just need something to keep myself awake. It's a losing game to convince yourself you mean anything. My life will fall apart but who gives a fuck? Like a river I'll never learn: the same path 'til I crash and burn, and I'm forever facing death knowing I can never return.
Track Name: Torch
Starving artist, I know you never ate much but is it worse than living in a cultureless culture that doesn't care for what you bleed over? Yeah, I know the shame, having to hide the name of your calling like an exiled love just to stay above the guilt of loving something you can't explain in financial form. You're starving your soul if you fucking have one. This depleted life it makes me wonder why people carry torches, I'd burn myself alive because what we value, people just don't care, they say we're misled say we're unaware but when you constantly embrace the fact that you haven't got your life on track nothing really means much. Nothing matters but what you love but I don't know if I can take another half century of wallowing in this shit. I don't think I ever claimed to know anything about how to live, I can only measure my pain. And I've felt true anguish but I hate this more and I think I want to give in if this is all that's in store. But maybe I can change and learn how to cope with the fact that I'll never have understood goals. I'll take the time to create my own version of god, find love, lose profit and then die like a dog.