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 Mar 2015 Cellar D'or
Matt Fatt
a screaming boundless energy ripped from the endless swirling nights of utter catastrophic, discontented, virile, violent youths seemingly fixated upon the physically aesthetic pleasure of a life lived for hedonistic exhibition, constant thrusting, constant grunting, constant ecstasy, numbing pain brought forth for a lost and listless generation of juvenile delinquents in there mid twenties playing adults games in the spastic frame of minds torn apart by a strive to explore the deepest far beliefs beyond the picket fence Christianity our fore father's passed to you and me, no more crosses, far more genders, no more rosaries, far more pleasures shouting a laugh and loving a cry for our emotions aren't stunted by a carry on routine that we don't need to make a day by day existence bearable to the the least of our excessive masses whilst our mothers and father's are no longer just parents but acceptive friends we speak to when the dark flows in and making our lives that much better no more roles, no more cashing in, disregarding contractual obligation for the freedom to stick your thumb out and make a difference for a single human a twenty minute ride at a time before standing in basements discussing artists not heard on the radio but found through the mouths of cis and trans and neutrals and sought out to make a webbing of friends of friends spanning the nation and world connected by sobriety and beer and cigarettes and edge during the screaming restlessness we make our play dates out to be in a whirling endless sunlit darkness of vanity and fameless torment of grins lit by our want to eat, want to breathe, want to be, a quixotic banner unfurled upon those that still judge the person who stands in a crowd and let's out his lions roar of ecstatic, emphatic, explosive individuality, well traveled townies aching for the former freedom of our cave dwelling ancestors finding solace in having convictions of there teenage dreams that no establishment managed to rip away despite an overwhelming conspiracy of conformity and grief of Orwellian nature brought upon by a status quo that we just won't believe, ever striving, ever reaching, you won't stop us, can't be seen during the maddening dreariness of a seemingly beautiful system that you scratch the surface to see the ugliness of a misanthropic government wanting only to lead you by your nose and by your crotch to the final destination no more dreaming, only scheming, we have our own systems set in place of anarchistic communal daydreaming laze ever combating one another before hugging out our differences because the final magnificence is the blinding beauty of a thousand different minds unable to form a hive brain because we will never be your hive we will never be your home we will only be your friend and you will never be alone again as long as you are willing to be your ever bursting personification of your own self beliefs and as far as we can go we will bring an ******* flowing running start to all we see, always loving, always loving, an appreciative closeness sung from our aloofness to those we once sought to impress for our own destructive tendencies were ripped away and replaced with a system of URLs which allow us to voice our free and feisty opinion of anything and everything, no more hiding, no more dying, a slapstick routine twisted in and mixed with the single shallow want of pureborn liberty no constitution needed to be free just the voice in your head not believing a society that tries to pigeonhole your looks and *** and orientation and soul, so long parties, we are free, we are I, I am me.
She walks in beauty  .  .  .
Shines without delusion,
  .  .  .  Certain as starlight.
Maybe we cling to what isn’t real

So when I found you I latched on for life

And I knew it would fall to pieces, because it started out not quite whole

If you were looking for a girl, she died long ago

I stayed by the sides of the one’s who silenced my cries for help

Who told me keep quiet, put my safety on a shelf

I was so innocent...

That’s my appeal

Pretend I have the body of a child, but a grown woman’s mind

Because actually having the body of a child wasn’t a clear enough line

You jump in the deep end not knowing what you’ll find

An ocean full of corpses and bits of a hopeless mind

You’ll reach out to touch only to watch me cringe because the last one who ever saw

my skin

Told me he loved me

Told me he was there for me

Told me to leave my friends behind

Told me that only he could make me happy

If I went with him, he promised to be kind

He told me he loved me

And the boundaries of his love were based on how much skin was in his sight

Everybody leaves, blaming me, saying I didn’t try

I’m too sad to live, too much of a coward to die

Maybe the truth is that I put on a smile, because I’m too tired to cry

I want to be wanted, but no one wants ME

I’m the reason everybody leaves.

I’m a vapid *****

I’m a stupid *****

I’m a Russian-*******-doll, nothing inside me but me myself and I

I’m useless, can’t you tell? I’m not worth keeping around

I’m a warning sign

I’m a wailing siren

I can’t even be bothered to keep my feet on the ground

So when the opportunity came, I fell into whatever arms would hold me

But they were the same ones that broke me

Because the last one who ever saw my skin,

Called me “his”

I was the apostrophy at the end of his name

Because what we had was a cat and mouse game

And you...

You were quite the same

It was my fault, I know

Thinking that two broken people could come together as whole

I’d lie awake next to you, imagining happiness

Is this it? Is love supposed to feel like this?

I thought that maybe what I needed was someone to fix me

But that didn’t explain why I felt so empty every time you kissed me

And being with you was like drowning in liquor

the more you have, the sips get quicker

But too much of a good thing makes you want to *****

Stand over the toilet till your nose is hearing comets

And you.

You told me you loved me.

I’m so sorry

I’m so so sorry I said it too

I’m sorry I got all hung up, sending texts “when can I see you”?

I’m sorry the only time you heard a compliment is when our legs were wrapped together

I’m sorry the only admiration I gave you was in response to pictures on the phone

I’m sorry, so sorry for what I became

Because for once I had the upper hand in this sick little game

See,

He told me I was beautiful, but only in the sheets

He told me that he wanted me, drunk and half asleep

He told me that he cared, but only if he approved of the clothes I would wear

I only loved you with a bottle in my hand

I only needed you in an empty bed

I only wanted you when you started to show that you didn’t want me, too

I’m sorry, so sorry for what I became

But you told me you loved me.

And then you got up and left

I’m a vapid *****

And a stupid *****

I’m a broken doll you didn’t need anymore

Everyone leaves, no one says why

The least you could have said was a simple goodbye.
Life's colors exist in red, yellow, and blue, an unaffordable simplicity existing only on the gray wax paper taped to my pallet. My hands are sweaty underneath my gloves, slick with linseed and paint. Leaves fall and stick to the surface of artificial canvas smeared with the tracks of pigment on my brush.
There I dance, grass caressing my bare feet, hair guided by the gentle breath of wind. An improvisation of ultramarine and alizarin crimson and titanium white, time transcends, though the shadows move. In this moment, nothing else matters except for the performance of light, color, motion.
different style of poetry.
3.12.15
Not in mount or tomb of stone, nor gold,
Are visions vibrations, stationed, knelled,
Or clutched in baubles, nor books of old,
But in gentle petal, sun pried, shy swells.
Think twice
About your lies
About your words,
The sharpened stick
Our suffering, your fix
The bludgeoning stones
That break the bones
The structure of our hope
Our only way to cope

To think that broken bones
Hurt as much as the verbal stones
The teasing and picking
Pushed around the circle
A game of cruel hot potato
Until they got sick and let you go

Elementary thugs
Became middle school suicide assistants

Determined in their mission to blow out our souls
To reach their sick goals
I feel the urge
It's something I must purge
To feel it sink
Blood stain like ink

I want to take my blade
And let common sense fade
Abandon rationality
Embrace my secret personality

The one that wants inside your home
To feel your heart
Beat
To watch as each beat it uses to try
Only means the faster you die

To watch your life leave your eyes
To hear your pained, fearful cries
Oh the bliss
It's not something you'd want to miss.
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