tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60651612011-12-31T12:37:43.504-05:00Returning to leaveMatthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.comBlogger1061100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-7444086341578607972010-11-23T20:09:00.002-05:002010-11-23T20:13:35.406-05:00

Name: Paul WatsonCINumber: 3699259.Age: 12 Paul Wilson is an aspiring basketball player. It is an one of the First World games, invented by a mathematician back in the twentieth century. His father taught him about it as a child and he has loved it ever since. “It is speed, trajectory, and the magic of flight, my son...” Paul was born with a quickness rating of 933. This is well above

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-3112592531011508252009-12-17T08:52:00.002-05:002009-12-17T09:15:18.196-05:00

Location: Some locally-owned Coffee ShopCharacters (All regulars at the shop):Jeroh: Male. Athlete at a local sports team. Good looking. Insecure of Morgan’s occasional homosexual nature.Vikki: Female. Slightly plump, down to earth Hair Stylist. Wears glasses. Has a crush on Jeroh.Samantha: Party Girl/Barista. A better artist than her boyfriend.Morgan: Barista. Flamboyant, open sexuality which he

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-26251072905868433752009-12-08T17:49:00.001-05:002010-01-15T00:09:29.036-05:00

Outside? Well it’s blue skies. Inside, I see a couch... and that is vomit beside my mouth. That rhymes, but it’s all over the cushions, and the carpet. Fuck, definitely getting up---another one. How novel, but this has already soaked in. My brain tries to rush into some sort of gear, like a kid too lazy to get off the bike and fix the chain. I stand up. I need... things to clean with---I need a

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-33279922975135557392009-10-18T22:51:00.002-04:002009-10-18T23:23:59.293-04:00

How can we know the dancer from the dance? ~William Butler Yeats River was only a young girl when she lead her wandering people to the river by which they now dwell. A child not searching for her name like most, but instead walking its first steps towards the familiar, the self-determined. She wears her name with comfort, like one should. Consistently more clever and generous than the rest,

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-91443119684222132882009-10-03T09:00:00.002-04:002009-10-03T09:03:22.936-04:00

It was right there in her diner,None soon from heart and the undone, Now a knot it's tight, With a smile, it's like: To touch her mouth when it is moving.Laugh, and drink some teaLonely but, how you see meI'll mark this time And then rewindOh how it felt so forward gracefulStudious essential: glasses perchPlayful jab, a coyful smirkTo her dismay I sit awayThis isn't bubble hubrisShe maybe likes

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-58071122432135652592009-06-10T13:30:00.006-04:002009-06-15T10:56:38.012-04:00

Brian lays beside his wife trying to match his breathing to hers. He is tempted to wake her up, just to bask in her presence. He does not want to deal with the pointed insomnia, clicking between his nightwardly thoughts. The husband and father turns over and over next to his wife. Trying to give up into his pillow, failing each time.He hears something, underneath. The slight vibrations and

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-36922058367024457312009-06-08T21:36:00.001-04:002009-06-08T22:24:44.229-04:00

Bowling is a game that takes place in frames, added together. When you get a strike you want to capitalize on the next frame. It has that compounding element to it. A strike is the best there is. Total perfection. It is the moment when you realize that all matter is in motion, and every waking second is the messy collision of forces, but in that prolonged moment is the essence of art and sport

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-34732799089443840582009-06-02T23:00:00.001-04:002009-06-02T23:00:31.331-04:00

Then the body hit the floor. Sophia’s frame stings with the heat of love. What an inferno it can create. She would scream but there is no one in the house that will do anything. This is not new, and there is nothing but the floor. Likewise Frank doesn’t say a word, he’s always been the quiet type. It’s just the sounds. A constant reminder for both. This external world. Sophia was born a very

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-54785050566954865692009-05-26T06:41:00.001-04:002009-05-26T06:41:21.287-04:00

Kent is a native to these lands. He is nomadic, but this region alone is his home. Here we find the finished limb of a ancient growth: the evolution of man. Kent stands beneath a long-rooted tree, his kind a key affinity to the mother giant. She has rejected a persistent stone, by the looks of him, from the thick jungle brush. He is scarred, and resilient -- unnecessary for the harmonized. He

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-15063700703074252712009-05-26T06:36:00.003-04:002009-07-23T20:47:27.666-04:00

The humans know him as Ebon. A simple enough name, easy to pronounce. He stands at the front of the classroom, behind him is a nano-particle board --as requested-- which he controls by telekinesis. Mathematical formulas, general diagrams, detailed pictures. A nano-particle board is the bare minimum with a species that is largely non-telepathic. Ebon, of course, doesn’t speak. This isn’t the arts,

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-40117851247066927322009-05-08T06:03:00.000-04:002009-05-08T06:04:03.092-04:00

One of these houses is the sameOne of these songs is the cane,One of these rules in my brainLooking to cement what’s mine...my mindOne of these days it will endAnd all of these times that I pretendTrying to care, to sew, to mendThe dreams inside me muteJust whispers of the coming failMy sail is limp, this boatThis liquid fucking bucket pailClouds of a blackened sunBegun

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-5125854334778906052009-03-12T19:29:00.001-04:002009-05-01T21:18:20.103-04:00

By Matt Jones I think if you remember back far enough, you will find a heavenly time. For me it was a long time ago when I was a spoiled kid. I had everything, including an atmosphere which would let me get away with it. There is something about being young where anything goes because children are closer to where we all want to be: sitting in the sun up on that island. God is my head and there is

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-80870695365258213952009-03-11T12:04:00.001-04:002009-03-11T12:04:24.640-04:00

In another world a whiteout is what they call it when unbelievable phantasms spray, blanketing the sky completely. They appeared to have sprayed all throughout the night. Waking up I could see the outline of the sun trying to beat through the putrid chemical haze that our handlers have gassed over the cornfield.It's 12pm and I am already tired and stressed for reasons known. By whom? Is this

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-87770819483079740812009-03-02T19:00:00.001-05:002009-03-02T19:00:34.149-05:00

The way to be interesting is to just dive into something. In the deep end, of course. If you make a bold statement without justification it can either sink or swim. If you’re still reading this, then butterfly, baby, we’re swimming here. Keep a rhythm. Kick with action and consistent imagery. The stories that drown, a flailing waste of time are either too calm, or carrying too much subcurrent.

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-30001641933687982212009-02-18T17:48:00.000-05:002009-02-18T17:49:45.496-05:00

“Essentially the distinction is thus: a sign gives reference to that which is known, whereas a symbol points to the muted unfamiliar.” -- Carl Jung. Francis Bacon adjusts his cumbersome black hat slightly, watching the man seated across from him at the large library table as he flips through one of his many books with earnest. The book in question is purple: one of three the man keeps on his

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com111tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-7359023754767399142009-02-14T02:10:00.004-05:002009-02-14T02:53:21.031-05:00

February 10th. Holidays are many things; most people either seem to enjoy them immensely, or dislike them for the reasons that the majority do. We at the Eros Group side with the minority in that many holidays are simply consumerist whore outs, but as our name implies we represent the love which is found among us all, the real love, not some socialist catch phrase. We stand here on Valentine’s

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-63530732430815526162009-01-21T09:45:00.002-05:002009-08-19T09:57:38.320-04:00

The 44th President of the United States of America is the first in a number of ways. Besides being black, President Obama is the first President ever to give his inauguration address entirely in musical form. The twenty (out of twenty-four) minute guitar solo, played by President Obama, who opted to not wear a shirt during this process, caught some by surprise.Ronnie, a DC native, did not approve

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-45595685848919970792009-01-18T21:38:00.004-05:002009-01-18T21:55:49.102-05:00

Villemont is a small road; only through continued use does it keep its distinction from the approaching thorns and looming trees. If even at a slow rate, it is surely closing up behind them, as it should be. A net of shadows crawls up the marked white-and-blue police car as it crawls through what is, despite the street sign’s recent theft, still an official street. After all it’s their job to

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-75349174936387445772009-01-04T18:54:00.001-05:002009-01-04T18:54:15.800-05:00

The decision to attend the dinner party was one I made in the pretext of unchoice: my ex girlfriend Katie. I have never been happier than with her, and love is never a choice, but an order you are happy to obey. Of course no one chooses to fall from grace, but the closer you get to someone the more graceful choices must be. The same goes for death. Till this day it amazes me that a connection so

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-85032250051485554182008-12-21T07:27:00.002-05:002008-12-21T07:44:47.543-05:00

I don't know what to say I'm writing;That's the sound of my heart, right thenWhy do you whisper things so sweet?Right on through to where you used to be.I don't know where it could have gone;Think you know, but more you know his song,And maybe mine is too longTell me darlin do you hear that sound?World is dying, it's no longer round.(Or is it the brain?)I sometimes wish I could go again,So we

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-8735145953671699072008-12-09T15:07:00.000-05:002008-12-09T15:09:12.007-05:00

I amsad today.Surely I deserve love,as everyone does.How is it she can trade itfor security? What is that?I could feel it the moment it happenedAnd she made me suffer for days.Few understandThe literal power of thoughts. Now she is with him.He does not make her laugh.I see through her lies, I cannot be consoled.One day I will scratch out my eyes.I am a mirror; monster.I am so sad.... so all alone.

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-50921857258600282502008-11-29T16:28:00.000-05:002008-11-29T16:29:39.530-05:00

Coburg Rd. I have run up this street, part of a panting, sweatpanted pack of varsity athletes. I have all out sprinted down this street, all alone, with sweet dark rum pouring from my pours into natural puddles; the singles, the doubles. I have walked hand interlocked with admirations of my sports, of physical stock. Seen from the gym the street is straight, and the lure of the whistle, well that

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-63032022960334221332008-11-24T22:13:00.002-05:002008-11-24T22:25:16.322-05:00

Man of the sky; man in the boxThe one with the style, with the short locksAnd an open gazeClosed up passions... they fadeThey smash and renew Into the fashionable way he looks while not walking away; Click, everlasting.Or, while walking away from the best the earth has To offer: GlowOf the natural order. The one with the styleWoman of wonders; the secrets in warmth.

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-58941590451997553702008-11-13T15:35:00.001-05:002008-11-13T15:37:21.300-05:00

I started a rhyme-scheme verse in my head while listening to this songhttp://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=-hotjeKvovgSo I decided to finish it off on paper. Only five years past I had so much soulI would play with my homieShe’s say ‘That joke’s so old’ I’d say ‘I’m really phony’ But, um, I said ‘hey phone me’But now, I feel so lonely--But she don’t wanna know Even though she wanna know me. So, the

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-72485097099497661092008-11-12T19:28:00.003-05:002008-11-12T19:39:48.127-05:00

A particular girl named Claire sits beside some guy in their philosophy class. She is etching numbers and letters onto a piece of paper -- a game -- different values in a matrix of squares. The guy beside Claire does not know if the game has anything to do with the lecture, nor does he know this of Claire.Claire’s classes, the history of rational thought, are merely subplots of attention, easily

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-90994563914812308412008-08-24T08:30:00.000-04:002008-08-24T08:31:06.090-04:00

The man in question had eight balls for eyes; pure black and white. He shuffled the tarot with o ingenuity; he threw darts onto the back end of his previous darts. His grin stretches from the sun to it's shadow; his soul is stretched thin. Perfection is not balance, so this magician runs dry of mana. The will to conquer nature precipitates a contempt for it. Amongst the dark, slower rays, his

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-23912599131469293292008-08-23T04:30:00.002-04:002008-09-06T14:08:17.753-04:00

PrologueI write this on a day of ritual. From the overt, to the sublime, I came to see it all in good time. Even more specifically, in time. There is not much time left now. As I watch the first mosquitos of Armageddon starting to buzz into my very own apartment, my fingers mind this, my own eulogy. The road to Revelations was quite a long one, but we made it all the way to the Revealing. The

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-3497167118435227452008-07-04T05:08:00.000-04:002008-07-04T05:09:09.767-04:00

Sitting at his desk, Ra’s eyes languish, furthest from discontent. It’s the friction. The pupil’s steady boundary. He is a parabole, that much is sure, but the origins of his beginning, that is the stuff of one history in particular. Of a society who would hold it; of a society whose brain would lie, claiming it knows no better.So it was he uncrossed his legs from underneath the basic wooden

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-63039454379708823972008-07-04T04:58:00.001-04:002008-07-04T04:58:17.345-04:00

On this late Tuesday night the suburbs slept. Blankets of static pulled up tight. Eyelids had begun to flicker. Rectangle lightning moved from square to square; up and down. Locks penetrate. Couples are secure in each other, and children let the colors run free, laughing and crying below closed eyelids. Life persists, like a disgruntled tourist. Ideas drift along in the oxygen remaining, waking

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-43691263824162585702007-06-16T16:23:00.000-04:002007-11-09T02:23:46.409-05:00

It was lunchtime, and all and all Dave felt balanced.The traffic on the freeway had not moved an inch in over a half hour. Dave was content enough, though. Long thoughtful breaths flowed from his mouth as he meditated on the traffic, and what the rest of the day might hold. Quiet, cleansing thoughts. His salad of a lunch sat beside him next to the seat, and although most of the work force was

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-20983106684041955972007-06-10T06:12:00.000-04:002007-06-12T03:54:56.739-04:00

"So honey, you're never going to believe the interview I had today" I explained rather honestly this time, as I picked up a piece of carrot from the cutting board, examining the seemingly foreign marble design. Is this new? Looks new...Might have to check the visa statements tonight."Oh?" the thief, so elegant in her grace, responds while setting the last of the utensils onto the table. The whole

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1145818081770175972006-04-23T14:47:00.000-04:002007-06-12T03:55:50.342-04:00

I see them all through the run of a day but they only really talk to me at night, wherever that may be.The rapists, the floorcleaners, the widowers, the lampshade repair men, the captains, the sons, the victims, the happy, the confused, the high, the unconscious, the writers, the broke, the restrained and those plotting revenge.We have many different conversations, I am indifferent. Sometimes

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1145817781729254132006-04-23T14:42:00.000-04:002007-06-12T03:56:17.291-04:00

"Are you still awake?""No""Ha-Ha, very cliche""What is it? and if you turn on the light I swear to god I'll scream""Well.. it's just that.. I feel like I should come clean with you about something""Well I'm certainly awake now, what is it?""I'm sort of angry that you didn't ask to have that side of the bed.""What do you mean?""You know what I mean! You think I don't realize what you're doing when

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1145817727640100002006-04-23T14:40:00.001-04:002006-04-23T14:42:07.640-04:00

Her torsoed words struggled, syllabic limbs flailing at Leroy's ears, but to no avail. The woman below him was just one of the many, why should he really listen to their voices?"I'm scared..."Pathetic, spoiled bitch. Leroy was going to enjoy inflicting this harm on 'Mrs. Stevenson'. He looked down at her, he mascara running down her cheeks as she stared wide eyed at the metel instrument in the

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1140034420633294032006-02-15T15:13:00.000-05:002006-02-15T15:13:40.636-05:00

I write this without the intention to offend or depress, but with that I must confess, I feel I must tell you that I write this to cheer you, to ignite the fear into your heart of mispelled thought intentions and potentiality.Do not look to the sun, for it will only show you your own doubt, a set of push ups you use to look at my own dark outline. Muscles strain, and blood declines from the

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1140034390682621472006-02-15T15:12:00.002-05:002006-02-15T15:13:10.683-05:00

I can't seeher spacial projectionso closeonly in diagram...genuinesuppressioncan ponder deepernext to my four corneredaesthetic habitat.

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1140034361915453932006-02-15T15:12:00.001-05:002006-02-15T15:12:41.916-05:00

I wander around this rather temporary scenery; there is no sun, nor no moon but yet a light seems to eminate from somewhere, it almost annoys me that I can't stay focused on this phenomenon long enough to care.I ponder around the corners feeling the irresitable transmission from a unknowable reality. But yet this screen, this invisible reality seems to offer something extra, something which

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1140034333152670892006-02-15T15:12:00.000-05:002006-02-15T15:12:13.163-05:00

My mind breachescascades with waterincomprehesiblefor none seems to come outThis excersizerainscurved sweatonto my drumA smile forms.I choose to choosewhich isto glance at the clockI grasp my lipsand bury themin the shreddeddocuments.

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1138012369458803502006-01-23T05:32:00.000-05:002007-06-10T06:29:42.052-04:00

--The Library:I did my best moonwalk through the different aisles, they were lined with books as far as I could see. This is not to say it was a straight endless path, it's just that as far as I've seen, it's only been books. The bookshelfs are intriguing, some are placed in relative order, some are quite peculiar in shape and are simply placed haphazardly. Maps, models, they leaned against

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1136968456652174012006-01-11T03:33:00.000-05:002006-01-11T03:34:16.666-05:00

I stood there on the second hand of the clock I was watching; being sprung forward across an interval to a new place. This is the essense of my time, I do not feel surrounded, I do not swim in it's wake, nor am I pushed by it's flow, rather I am the waterskier who skips across the sometimes bumpy waves. As this character, I reached up to wipe some of what was either sea water or sweat from my

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1135928768994642982005-12-30T02:45:00.000-05:002005-12-30T02:46:09.010-05:00

She was a nimble cattle prodvoid of cartoon audacity for a spoiled sunshineDepressed by anvil parachutesHis labyrith tongue glazedIt was a dam anacids cooking slowly under ice stareShake me like the saltrunning through my veins.Drawing down the linesnavigate the mazeThe cannons slept while penetratingthe abrupt horizon of a vacant childShe was a dripping handjobfrom the widetoothed grin of a

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1135590237998160302005-12-26T04:43:00.000-05:002005-12-26T04:43:58.000-05:00

"There is a certain misconception about stress I think. Alot of people think if you have a really hectic or otherwise complicated, pressuring career that you will be a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. When I was younger I used to see people on TV, the enemies so to speak and think to myself 'Man.. I bet those guys don't get any sleep, how can they live in constant peril?'. Truth is, we adapt,

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1135590125347166582005-12-26T04:41:00.000-05:002005-12-26T04:42:05.703-05:00

It's a genius concept really. Travel around to different places, contestants come on the show willingly, and free. All the places that the crew goes are complimentary because of the exposure they get through tv. I talk of none other than the compliment to the 4am Springer, Povich combo, I talk of Elimidate.On this particular date I stood leaning against the wall in the living room in of the house

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1133897938905815972005-12-06T14:38:00.000-05:002005-12-06T14:38:58.923-05:00

“And contestant number 4 begins to type on the computer, yet again!”“Not only that Tim, but it’s at quarter to 7 in the morning! I mean he would long be asleep by now!”I sat there, trying to ignore the commentary; it seemed to penetrate the layer of deception I had draped over my body. How had they found me? I wondered as the words seem to come out on their own, “Listen, why don’t you guys cut me

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1133000868935869932005-11-26T05:19:00.000-05:002005-11-26T05:27:48.946-05:00

Over hereThis stream is changingHeld by rigid landI standTime running downstreamThe outline of a manUp aboveThe rain is fallingAround the place I stand

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1132647735145116032005-11-22T02:27:00.000-05:002005-11-22T03:22:15.190-05:00

Sidney ascended the steps of Temple High School, leaving behind her a wake of confidence and illusion, the engine of course -- her attire and demeanor. The hallways were jammed full with studets, the usual silence that had followed the mass production of the 'Spectacles'.The Spectacles are a pair of ordinary looking seeing glasses, but they are far beyond the fossil like 'seeing glasses' in

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1132392915894744052005-11-19T04:34:00.000-05:002005-11-19T04:35:15.903-05:00

Deep within hormone poolsreflect star filled skiesI laughed at myselfas I could not look away A magnet for my eyesthe attraction of foolsShe persisted to fake dismaythrew her to the topmost shelf----The years between, and the days apartAll of this time, you are my art. ----I see her there, out of reachI'm reminded every time she speaksI set this dinner with myself as the wineShe rips out the

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1132045289995568402005-11-15T04:01:00.000-05:002005-11-15T04:01:30.006-05:00

Kingdom of the ruling loversThe taste is sour of oak keg watersDrum on to the future beatWhere these words and lines will surely meetHedonistic devil go awayI love you but another dayRead between and you find timeHere, now, in this rhyme

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1132042560012586812005-11-15T03:15:00.000-05:002005-11-15T03:16:00.026-05:00

The journalist traveresed the steps of the building the best he could; the whole thing wasn't a regular vertical staircase, for some reason it was this apparent maze of sporradic upward footsteps. The building, as he came to realize was what he considered somewhat of an architectual failure, the layout was not symmetrical and did not make sense. It required the journalist to think, and he did not

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1131432355817788982005-11-08T01:45:00.000-05:002005-11-08T01:45:55.836-05:00

he police officer stared through the glass at the brightly lit, ever-so-simple room. In fact, it was one of the brightest rooms that they had here in the building. She assumed the extreme light is designed to be uncomfortable, but somehow it seemed the reverse for her right now. The detainee, seated at the interrogation table seemed to be quite at home, he was slouched over, using one of his arms

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1130992987686245902005-11-02T23:42:00.000-05:002005-11-02T23:43:07.703-05:00

She had made a lot of mistakes in her day, she knew this. With mistakes comes a certain degree of intelligence however. Her son could never understand this. She praised him, even to herself for his doctorate, and subsequent teaching position, but he always made the right choices, starting with his one to run away from home. She couldn't blame him, a kid that smart with a mother like him? It was

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1130675928024231142005-10-30T07:38:00.000-05:002005-10-30T07:38:48.040-05:00

You know when you wake up and things just don't feel 'right'? Well it was like that.Before I even opened my eyes I realized that instead of laying down, I was in fact leaning against something. I opened my eyes. I saw the wooden floor, no surprise there, my room has a wooden floor. It was at about this thought that my brain finally turned over and started its motors.I'm downstairs, I passed out..

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1130270676941452932005-10-25T16:03:00.000-04:002005-10-25T16:04:36.950-04:00

Spit me out onto the reconcillial mind.Love between us, love is young; Our minds forever slowing down. When I start to feel sublime,It's everybody in, my mind. Blood is emptyRed is freePump together, you and me. The pages that I pinchWith ephemeral graceKnowledge is an artist of the utermost grace

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1125732230200890652005-09-03T03:22:00.000-04:002005-09-03T03:23:50.206-04:00

Completed forthcomingsand I'm tying a knot.vampiric mirrorsare the path that we walkHow can we agreeto the puzzle of our lives?When the peices stopTo this question we collide.Do I laugh or do I cry? Reply?

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1124785470082705582005-08-23T04:23:00.000-04:002005-08-23T04:24:30.086-04:00

Can you recall that day?when life suggested run till fallTo face it hereI wish that I could have those daysI go to the store to pass the time I lie to the cashier Because the words just hurt too much Still chasing that 15 year love pause Still scraping the sky But there's nothing left at allDo you recall that day?When the sudden windBlew in the bird'sthen we watched Back then I loved the sun's

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1123752811824966132005-08-11T05:27:00.000-04:002005-08-11T05:33:31.830-04:00

Tell me all the things you shareI laugh at this net that's caught me snareI was the one you thought you knewTell me all the things, and I'll tell youGive me my life, give me a signTell me my wife, what will I find?Tell me all the things that make me smileTell me this story, make it last for a while.Trust me once while was my way.

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1123482911680841782005-08-08T02:34:00.000-04:002005-08-08T02:36:50.016-04:00

Looking back I see I've known all along It's the words, the lyrics. I look up this song. Everything I've ever known to be meExist in these eyes, which I use to seeI sit and wait, for a time to want this So why is it I yearn, please give me a kiss? I've fallen in love, with the strength of this irony I stare at the bosses, come fate now and fire meA reason to smile, and that's only her eyes My

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1123143390287404052005-08-04T04:15:00.000-04:002005-08-04T04:16:30.293-04:00

So you stem the earth, and you pick the grainAnd in teeth your voice, becomes me one insane Come the ascending waves, and a gap-toothed grinCome the ominous water, fill the universe withinI'd watch for time, but I can't find my wristThe knob is broken, it's a sound level lispCome walk with me, in this hall of objectionMy hand is a mirror, for this light of perfectionI am the gods, I care not for

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1122801938942717422005-07-31T05:06:00.000-04:002005-07-31T05:25:38.946-04:00

This is going nowhere I thought, she's too drunk to even listen to reason, and without that this whole trip was going very downhill. I knew the age barrier would be a problem, but this seemed to be further amplified while we was drunk, and this was blowing a wind in my brain which produced angry thoughts."I told you it was this way"I observed, as she was not, that pointing in the left direction

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1121378300554220482005-07-14T17:39:00.000-04:002005-07-14T17:58:20.560-04:00

My expectations are so highKnock me down, I'll hit the groundAnd Cry.You act so cool watching from awayAs susie cuts me, she fucks meTo your dismay.Am I wasting time?Ceiling fan spins, second hand withinFor this rhyme.Come kiss meWho we are? We're the starsI give to thee.Look in my eyes,Would I lie? To the sky?Our love is.

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1121073830820787182005-07-11T05:04:00.000-04:002005-07-11T05:23:51.273-04:00

Climbing up this mountain of truthOh the things I've seen along the wayMany of days have passedand the night has gone byBut still I have that gleam of lightthat cuts the night residing in my eyeThe higher I climb, the more I seem to seethe metel mouth which eats the landand the red substance which makes up the seaThe more I know the more I loose touch upon myselfThe air is thinning as I breathe

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1119600947379270352005-06-24T03:48:00.000-04:002005-06-24T04:15:47.426-04:00

I see a story in my second hand beltThere's stars euphoric in the hand I'm dealtWith shoes of my thoughts I'll dance on the harborThe people on the ferry see and it fills them with laughterLike the green lazer that climbs into the nightI'll dance in my blazer when I'm well out of sightDon't talk about this, when that could have beenThe difference from reality and dream, is yet to be seenDon't let

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1118996117087962662005-06-17T03:52:00.000-04:002005-06-17T04:15:17.130-04:00

Two bulbs that float in clandestine lightMirrors shatter from the dead of nightEyes that look within from that which seesShall climb the skies and dance the seasLift me bend me, make me stillI still can’t see until I’m on that hillStand me on the noon sunsetYou can’t even grasp what I’ve seen yetTake the time to find your ownFind me on eternal phoneEveryone's got a thing,some will shine and some

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1118644598647577252005-06-13T02:00:00.000-04:002005-06-13T02:36:38.650-04:00

Hey it's us in the shop window,All dressed up, that's all that we now knowPaper or plastic, how bout an upsize?Your lips are fantastic, want some of my fries?Fuck all this greed, Fuck those who look downFuck my robot face, that now bares a frownWe fear our enemy, residing insideInside is our lives, that we face filled with prideAs we merge today, time's ongoing marchIt's this I say, from the

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1118565073832883712005-06-12T03:43:00.000-04:002005-06-12T04:31:14.506-04:00

I gotta see what's down this road,Gotta see my heart lifted of this loadYour smile I know,but your eyes, they're so...You can't know, the things that I sayYou will though, and it'll fall into placeMy space, is yours for the daySo touch me, with those eyes as you mayI know you are scared, afraid for the changeand so am I, boy love is strangeJust give it a chance, hold my handYou need to jump from

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1118305224609397062005-06-09T03:50:00.000-04:002005-06-09T04:20:24.656-04:00

Ti~me, it takes a toll, please eat with foodFi~nd, it waits too long, While in this crimeNo conscience, objective mimeSit and listen to your.. lustFurther from that which matters mustToke a book it leaves today, no biographyTime it takes a toll, it takes a toll, it taks a tollIt's mine to sentance dailyIt's mine to sentance daily

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1118044354099509142005-06-05T22:41:00.000-04:002005-06-06T03:52:34.886-04:00

She's just an extra part, in the movie within her heartIt's just another night, alone in the flashing lightsIt's just another tick from the hand that won't hold her ownHis jokes could make them grin, but he never quite fit right inIt's just another day, com'n and smoke the blues awayIt's just another note that will never see her eyes, he sighsWe walk the grid with grace, but they can't even look

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1116402635384146262005-05-18T03:26:00.000-04:002005-05-18T03:50:35.743-04:00

Life and death roll over in fire until they mateA slice of time will do it' s job to see them separateNever ever have I seen it done like thisEmotion everything outside the void called blissA mirror now will show me my true faceStars cascade right out my eyes to see the edge of spaceJust ask the question, come on just ask me pleaseI know the answer even before you can conceiveStep by step, into

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1116400880203129832005-05-18T02:55:00.000-04:002005-05-18T03:21:20.206-04:00

I got future, in today. It's unclear, but not dismay.In time I'll find who is looking back on me nowThis time I'll love that I am here, and not in the clouds.I got my life, that's pretty good. I'm under the knife, that's understood.I don't know where we're driving, but these signs have datesI know why we're dying, it's these corporate licence platesI got my mind, defender of my soul, My third eye

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1116313052631499912005-05-17T02:02:00.000-04:002005-05-17T03:02:29.153-04:00

"Listen you lanky wisefuck, You need to go now.. before it becomes bad for your health" The suprisingly minty breath of the gorilla man before me seemed to cut through the music like the sound of fucking nextdoor. I need to go? Where the hell am I? I started to laugh at this, holy fuck I'm messed up. The bouncer seemed to understand what state I was in and swiftly grabbed me by the arm

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1116309728871086292005-05-17T01:42:00.000-04:002005-05-17T02:02:08.876-04:00

Thoughts are quick, and if they stick you'll often be amazedBut you I'll pick, you make me sick, I'm caught up in your gazeDon't pin me down, don't want this crown, won't wear it to your graveYour legs arn't shut, you clench me but, it's you I try to saveThe walls are bruised, I'm half amused, now come and lay besideNo longer fused, cannot be rude, I hate you say then sighBefore I know, you make

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1116232606945243792005-05-16T03:45:00.000-04:002005-05-16T04:54:06.036-04:00

The wheels are spinning on the road of my lifeBut every once a while there comes a knifeSo take a seat, and make yourselfs at homeI got the beat, ears will ring like your phoneI never really hate but I get pissed offI will relate, how she hit me where I'm softHer smile outshone, the searchlight of my heartHer voice was so perfect, I knew from the startWriting this now it makes me want to cryI

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1116186801858670412005-05-15T15:52:00.000-04:002005-05-15T15:53:21.863-04:00

My words are tight, like a boyscout knotI’ve seen the light, though they yell/shout notI wake up every day, a god to my thoughtsSo listen when I say, music’s on the block--So listen up y’all I got a story I wanna tellFrom the drop of the ball, they were sentenced right to hellWith shoes that sorta smelled and the dope they tried to sellIt’s the dawn of an age, as these letters hit the pageMusic

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1115799721563247082005-05-11T04:21:00.000-04:002005-05-11T04:22:01.570-04:00

I fell asleep against your gaze,I dreamt of that which does amazeI am the flag, in the storm of your sighI am the deck, in the sea of your eyeI am the police, who patrol for your smileLet’s lay here forever, and then for a while

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1115609222975042212005-05-08T23:25:00.000-04:002005-05-09T13:54:39.366-04:00

The rain’s been falling for quite a while now, I wonder if it will ever end? I thought this as I opened the small bag, all the hope in my life was contained within. “Time to do some baking” I said out loud, this followed by a small laugh. The walls arched their eyebrows in surprise. As I went about my business, naked and hunched over the windowsill and sitting on a shitty stool, my gaze shifted

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1114406618123265622005-04-25T01:21:00.000-04:002005-04-25T01:23:38.123-04:00

Why do we only ask ourselves deep meaningful questions after bad things happen? Does enlightenment only happen in conjunction with pain? ex. drugs - mental conquest, physical sacrifice

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1114065217152232962005-04-21T02:21:00.000-04:002005-04-21T02:33:37.153-04:00

The streets of my thought are patrolled by my mindBut the drivers are distracted, infected they're blindSo now our faith has come down, to money, fire, pipe and a big rockSo now, in haste we do frown, it's funny, the life we started and can't stopWhen I find out, the world that I should knowI cry, sober to see that world as it's bestowedWe're fallin back, back behind the evolutionPower for brains

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1113382695931696952005-04-13T04:46:00.000-04:002005-04-13T04:58:15.933-04:00

Like the peices of a puzzleare the stairs to my mindAs they fall in placethe higher I will climbI walk up to the sunNear the top the peices burnTill they're all in placeI see the picture I have learned

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1113112264987112072005-04-10T01:25:00.000-04:002005-04-10T01:51:04.986-04:00

I saw the new view coming and I hit the floLet it wash my back not my eyes no noAll of the sudden, I saw my picture runninTalkin to my fear although it's not saying nothinHit my eyes, then my brain, then myself, and soWith disguise, I am sane, and the bookshelf's lowYou are thinking, and my new thought's seekintalkin to my sense on a european weekend.

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1112261075723080912005-03-31T04:18:00.000-05:002005-08-12T00:23:04.116-04:00

An ode to acirEI picture your smileI can see it on my faceMy heart on the track as it starts to raceI can’t drink the waterI can’t breathe the airWithout swallowing prideAnd smelling your hairLike some ice in the nightMy siren is this songEverything was rightThen everything was wrongI could stand here and wonderI could stand here and thinkBut this ship’s going underYeah it’s sure gonna

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1112260055416552972005-03-31T04:06:00.000-05:002005-03-31T04:07:35.416-05:00

Everything is goodAnd I feel fineThis deal understoodWhile I’m on bought timeNo thought of sleepThough it draws nearNo thought of lifeThough it’s all I hear

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1112259809304718602005-03-31T03:39:00.000-05:002005-03-31T04:03:29.306-05:00

I was down with her cinematographyNight’s film she’s the star and I’m just meBy chance luck ours eyes would findEverybody was feeling fi-e-ineDidn’t know then but my luck was twistedDidn’t know either at the hugs and kissesSearch for truth in the bump’n’grindEverybody was feeling fi-e-ineThere are no shadows bathed in starlightPlenty of sorrow with the dark of sunlightBy chance luck our paths

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1110702473818771352005-03-13T02:38:00.000-05:002005-03-13T03:40:15.080-05:00

It's funny how I hate for one i've never metCom'n wipe the slate, I'll win your heart i betYou'll tell me that you can't while I rave and rantYour words are a shoe and my heart is an antHow can we talk? When my intentions are clearYou can prolly see my thoughts if you look in my earYou've stolen my heart..like the burgler in townStill I can't frown.. no not when you're aroundPlease get off my

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1108424983762468592005-02-14T18:48:00.000-05:002005-02-14T18:49:43.763-05:00

Intellectual coffee is making me sleepWhile the thoughts in my brain are making me weepA drifter on sheets which mark down my placeYou can see the direction, just look at my faceI'll draw out this compass as well as the mapJust keep my hand moving or fall into a nap

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1107246460040993732005-02-01T02:59:00.000-05:002005-02-01T03:27:40.040-05:00

Come walk on closer To the mirror now Now dim the light sir Just me and you now Sweet salvation, No motivation Isolation, I say to me Come walk my street We'll float on smoke feet A circle road, I build for me Look empty windows No chance for widows Population, me and you

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1105776453914830752005-01-15T03:05:00.000-05:002005-01-15T03:07:33.916-05:00

I walk with you right down the street Under streetlight eyes will meet I wonder should I hold your hand The bed is where I hope we’ll land Why do you wanna think Why do you wanna think Who needs to understand? You take me home to warmth and light Knowing you’ll send me back to night My eyes will search your stare for face I lean for a kiss after your embrace Who would wanna be Who would like to

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1105768990482762312005-01-15T01:02:00.000-05:002005-01-15T01:03:10.483-05:00

Disappointment follows me Glasses I often use to see I’ll take them off from time to time Stumble around like a dumbfounded mime A drop in the pond will ripple some strife A drop in the glass, I’ll drink down my life Reject me now or I’ll wake up and smile Kiss me again so I’ll sleep for a while

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1104741039709933512005-01-03T03:30:00.000-05:002005-01-03T03:30:39.710-05:00

I see it in triangles, with us inside A trio our mind mangles, this I sigh Like the angles that govern We’re alike all us brethren Looking out from behind the sun I see the world itself and me one Wipe your eyes from this life so you’ll hear me A Salvador Dali, definition for you see Tears fall to earth, as we look to the skies A cut short branch, in evolution’s divide Wrapped in hope, it keeps

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1104737626618909592005-01-03T02:33:00.000-05:002005-01-03T02:33:46.616-05:00

To you I’m sad it’s not true In flact I’m glad, glad I have you You can’t know the truth I do this for you With my view now anew my worst fears ensue The new vietnam, a consentual perm For a price I have learned There is no return from this place I have gone

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1102846219297316422004-12-12T05:09:00.000-05:002004-12-12T05:10:19.296-05:00

Let me tell you about this girl named vicci My mate Mel brought her over to 1650 Over the horizon was a face I’ve seen Her eyes seemed to glean and her body so lean I feel like a diver in the deep deep depths cause when she looks my way I just loose my breath It’s fun in a way and it makes me smile I haven’t had a crush in quite a while I magnet she is, this I swear cause metal’s in my mind I’ve

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1101189935447439262004-11-23T01:05:00.000-05:002004-11-23T01:05:35.446-05:00

Between two walls These plans are sprawled Lacking understanding Problems solved Like Dune’s evolve Help me understand the Days slip by Like night noon sky Sneaky so I can’t see From the ball to the chain From the lame to the same Egocentric coffee

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1100684524819945562004-11-17T04:41:00.000-05:002004-11-17T04:42:04.820-05:00

Many nights I have slept alone A random grouping of human bones When is the time right to stop for you? The meaning of life is so ever true A feeling so strong it brings tears to me I wish I could write it so you could see I say what I say but you’re not here Give fear a blank cheque and it’s still fear A CD of longing, God it’s a fire Burnt with the soundtrack of my desire

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1100589813930681512004-11-16T02:22:00.000-05:002004-11-16T02:23:33.930-05:00

All that’s left are the jujubs that are black Sitting in a clear prepackaged sack I’ve been awake, one body for dreams The subject of sight, more real now it seems The candy is dark, like death’s stand up act The humor of a friend, that’s a matter of fact For he brings death, but so he brings life A lesson for those, who soon dwell in strife At night paths are dark, full of surprise In the thick

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1099984295945893002004-11-09T02:11:00.000-05:002004-11-09T02:11:35.946-05:00

Basking in this, my own discomfort Sinful bliss, reality distorts five fingered sight in the palm of my hand Bird’s eye sight is the view of this land Opening to things so as not to fall I stare in the mirror a defenceless wall My heart will race as thoughts fly past Most of self, in a great typecast I see a bridge and a leap of faith Brena please, what path to take?

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1099729574047495022004-11-06T04:25:00.000-05:002004-11-06T03:26:14.046-05:00

Twisting my arm like she’s turning my head I try to resist but it’s smiles she just said Her face shines like the life of a sunrise The guards of my heart soon meet their demise She lives right next door but seems so far I wish I could simply travel there in a car No I take luck, and a chance indeed What to do now.. In this life I lead

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1099469018486308442004-11-03T04:02:00.000-05:002004-11-03T03:03:38.486-05:00

Twice removed like a yell I shall sing This eye for beauty is too much of a good thing Know me, feel me, questions passed Every face that I see an adrenaline mask Don’t know why I’m here, just happy I am But in searching for beauty, you’ll find a dam Run by a lady, a lady so fine Man how she turned those tur-turbines But if she died, and die she might A sea of pain, would flood my life

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1099379536746948412004-11-02T02:11:00.000-05:002004-11-02T02:12:16.746-05:00

I sit in a dark empty bar The lights cut out through the night To shine upon the star Try to see his face I might Insufficient, thus so far My ears will listen to this sight He tells no tone, his master plan With life postponed I see I am just a man Allow me to forgive you....wow But long for play causes wars of now

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1099295362884800162004-11-01T02:48:00.001-05:002004-11-01T02:49:22.883-05:00

Everyone of us is you a hug embrace upon the truth Unity has passed Alone upon this path The search for self is forever new

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1099295315103622952004-11-01T02:48:00.000-05:002004-11-01T02:48:35.103-05:00

Life is me and I know life too A peach on a tree to the things I knew After summer fall of the peach tells it all From the hand to the stand To the stomach where it lands Such is the experience given unto

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6065161.post-1099295235688183792004-11-01T02:40:00.000-05:002004-11-01T02:47:15.686-05:00

Too tired to laugh Still as it lasts I feel the heat from the truth Emotions beded in you I life I have seen, Myself with this queen And as it causes a grin excitement runs through my skin

Matthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10846605536992239098noreply@blogger.com0