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Matthew Nov 2020
I have no wife
But I must be pegged
help I needed negging
Matthew Feb 2019
There are moments when I remember
fear
that I felt long ago
irrational and absurd
knife to my throat
lost thoughts
never breathing again
now I take a similar knife
to my wrist
Where is the fear?
Matthew Apr 2022
You're not a pretty girl

but pretty girls aren't lucky

you are.
Matthew Sep 2021
An endless, limitless pit echoing a deafening nothingness.
is how I imagine heartbreak to feel.

That is not what I feel.

What I feel is
like a bug bite
on my arm

It hurts a bit at first
but I'm only reminded of it
when the wind hits it just wrong
I'm reminded of the so recently silent pain.
Matthew Feb 2019
You can't have a mental illness
You are not killing anyone are you?
A very wrong view on mental illness.
Matthew Oct 2019
I have the N word pass
- Oprah Winfrey
I gave her the n-word pass
Matthew Jan 2019
I Used to have ideas on what was wrong and right.
They were wrong.
How it was
O+S
Matthew Nov 2019
Is not what we see
Matthew Aug 2020
You can't cry
or
I'll give you something to cry about

deathhhhhhhhhhhh
Matthew Feb 2019
You can't act like love is some trophy
to be won and earned
through adversity.

Love is shared
between
people

the
gifts
of
the

m
u
t
u
a
l
Matthew Feb 2019
You are so naive
so innocent
yet
is it that innocence
that makes me
love
what you do?
An idealized recreation of
myself.
that's what I made you.
Matthew Dec 2023
Please Yoink me from This Wretched Thread
Place put me back on
the Rosier Redwoods

Where I wandered as a wee one

So Free and Lost

The fissure
on the cobble
just so far ahead
flutters
the utmost
dread

But back then

I'd so easily

Trade my old toy trucks

for a new plastic card
Matthew Jan 2021
I write prose
poetry to
prove
I'm a product of
poor upbringing
Matthew Jan 2019
I woke up one morning
and was welcomed by the dark
that enveloped me.

                                  Introducing me to their void
of abstract reality.
Where I was no longer myself.
I was hovering in this abyss.
Timeless moments went by and,
I was It.
A simulacrum.
My thoughts belonged to others.
Nothing was me.
Hands searching a mind for thoughts to own
a motif
and it was crying
but it was me
but not
It observed how the tears
fell up to the colorless nothing
splashing on a ceiling that was not there

sudden and slow movements of it
silhouettes
of
moving pictures

I was a camera viewing everything as one
Staring into my body
my soul
it
the scattered thoughts
the abyss
darkness

But it
I
threw it away with disdain
Inspired by a perfect poem
Matthew Feb 2019
I try to fit inside society
but I don't
My curves are too jagged
my mannerisms too much;
but I should be proud
that I'm more likely to end my life,
of the hate crimes,
the judging,
and the people who want us to change.
Be Proud
Because when you don't fit into a box,
We are in that lovely rainbow pool.
But I am drowning in it.
The heteronormative box
replaced with more labels
and more discrimination.
"No femmes, no blacks, no asians"
It's okay to have preferences
But don't discriminate in a place where there is already enough.
I can't fit into the box even when they try.
There is pride in the milestones
Though, the road ahead goes on for awhile.
Matthew Nov 2021
Whenever relatives come
I know it's time that I put it on
So they can accept me
Restrict my speech and movement
so that I'm palatable for their one track mind
"Do you got a (insert partner of opposite gender)?"
No
Haven't been that lucky.

I'm so hot and sweaty
I feel like I can't breathe.
Maybe I should take it off.
Matthew Jan 2019
I feel like that even if I am a child I still can make an impact; my naivete could be a learning experience.  I dream to be young and wise yet know I'm doomed to be foolish and old.  I can't stop thinking about my foolish love, my puberty, and my raging hormones. I wish I was an adult yet dream to be a child.  I want to be impressionable for the rest of my life, but that's not how it works.
And I never feel normal
Matthew Feb 2019
Love runs away
Fleeing with Stolen Hearts
so fraudulent
and sly
tiptoeing to our doors
to leave us a small gift.
When we wake,
to a find a Stolen Heart on our doorstep
We hide.
Crimes of passion
we don't understand
Yours aching to return
And when our eyes meet
so do our lips
Unsure of the warm embrace
and the new heart
A hybrid of yours and mine.
Hoping
                                                    ­                                    Love doesn't shatter it.
A poem about love
Matthew Jan 2019
Listening to those Old Tunes
He didn’t want to tell him
That those melodies got to himself
Fatuous moments that would be internalized
By the music
By the love they gave in the pink
By the whims of each other selfishly
In love
Because now
A song is a conversation
They had when they were young
When they were naive
Believing their hearts would never dry
And believing that their absence wouldn’t make the other cry
When I wrote this one I wasn't trying to think of a concrete meaning and thinking mostly of nostalgia.
because sometimes using metaphors means that the meaning is the one that the reader finds. That you find. The conclusion that you draw would be just as valid as mine. Because I know as much about the poem as you do.
Matthew Jan 2019
We are not being foolish when we decide
that our life
is not worth living.
We should not be treated as if we didn't know what we were doing.
A choice is made that does not ignore the possibilities of what could happen.
So when we need help,
we only ask that we are treated
as a person that made that decision.

Rather than someone who does not know what is best for them.
Matthew Apr 2019
a message from me to you
Matthew Feb 2019
d
o
w
n

she goes
falling
and
stabbed
   b    y   her
jagged mistakes
cutting open the skin
and watching the blood
drip
down her
blue skirt
the ground is getting
closer.
She looking toward her painful
future
with
wide open eyes
hands together
nodding
praying for the water to run gold
someone else to grab her away
miracles
are gone
or
never existed

ground
Grace under pressure
Matthew Apr 2019
Sneeeky snek
Out for mous
Sneeky snek
In le hous
He slithery slither
And then he starts wither
Into dust
"I don't feel so good, Mr. Stark"
whoosh
Dont eat the children sneeky snek
Matthew Apr 2019
This feeling in my chest............................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.....................................| There's someone whose gotta
maybe it'll be me
Matthew Jan 2019
Do you ever want to be naive?
Yearn to be in those moments when you were foolish
Before knowledge tainted our innocence
Matthew Nov 2021
A memory of a memory.

It's skin has dissipated.

It's been peeled back to a naked emotion.

My face goes red.

It lives on...

Why...
Matthew Sep 2021
How's it going?

okay?

Are you there?
Idk what to fricking say. I'm so boring.
Matthew Jan 2019
a very small step that goes to the next.
It leaves and stops with fair hesitation.
Waiting and Restless.
Starting and Stopping
The movements going fast.
The feet, stomping.
The running, the saving, the freedom.
The tendency to always precede them.
Blur of speed
Never Stopping
The world asking
for silence
Quick response of
Stomp! Stomp!
The sound of a quickening run
Matthew Mar 2019
pick up the crumbs
find your way home,
but you'll come back
starving...
Matthew Feb 2019
You take the box
and strike a match against your skin
The flames seeming to clean your
old wounds.
You don't notice your scorched red skin
and broken fingers.
As you take another,
I hear the match against your flesh
Your heavy breathing,
your shaking hands,
and rigid smile.
You enjoy this pain
much more
Don't you
Matthew Aug 2020
O' How those Summer Days seem so bright,

when your regrets reside near them

O' How I wish I
could've enjoyed

that
sunny day

But Instead
I
reminisced




on
the ones
I'd
lost
Matthew Nov 2019
Tú crees que te amo con toda mi alma.  

¿Cómo?
Matthew Mar 2019
Silly,
how they see potential
where I never could.
everywhere I hope to be
on Earth,
but it is too late
my potential died
as well as me.

Silly, how tears
only fall down
your cheeks.
Matthew Aug 2019
The Tears of those that I don't care of
bleed into my subconscious

Maybe this time
Matthew Jan 2019
He would write his perfect poems.
Then, read it with his golden voice.
I hated his perfection
because I knew he was what I wanted to be.
He would smile and nod
whenever I shared my flawed poems.
He could do everything I had ever even thought about wanting to do effortlessly,
and I could not accept that.
I hated how I knew I would never amount to him.
But why do I want to kiss him?
A Story.
Matthew Jan 2019
If art is truly free
Then let us free it from the bounds by which we hold it
Separating it from the Creator
Letting people destroy and recreate it
and giving it a life it that the Creator never could
Because we all own the art.
Maybe art is free?  And Maybe this isn't a poem.
Matthew Feb 2019
It's falling to the ground
little
by little.
Giving itself
to us all.
Pink Blossoms
in the
dark night
blowing away to tomorrow.
A poem I feel is about death.
Matthew Jan 2019
He was someone who was thrown into the bland beige walls of his “school”
Interminable hours spent staring at the shining blue beyond his reach...
Only to be comforted by the violent wisps streaming from his parents mouths puncturing his heart
His vacant black mind only able to realize that he couldn’t
Reach that blue
Ever
He could stare at its inviting villas
But never be….

Until one day he took one of those many knives
From the drawer and his heart
And ran over to the blue
Piercing his soul with all those words
Painting over the lovely blue with his deepest red
And before he closed his eyes he could hear the bluebirds and cardinals sing
Yet another old poem of mine
Matthew Mar 2023
Don't burn yourself trying to put out the flames I put up around myself.
Matthew Jan 2019
I know you've never seen me before,
but I've always been here.
Just invisible
Just a poem
Matthew Jan 2019
We look into the damp, dark recesses of our mind
to look for finite definition
for our actions and expressions.
We are looking for a straight line in a work comprised of curved loops.
How we don't acknowledge the curved loops' flexibility to
everything.

We can only see shapes through our narrow minds.
Not the abstract dimensionality.
The straightening of a curved loop is the destruction of true art.
Moving endlessly with infinite pertinence.
That no one
yet everyone
understands.
I don't really I understand what I'm saying, but there's this insinuation that makes this feel expressionate.
Matthew Mar 2019
My smile appearing
like the blue sky after
a cloudy day.
Because of the wind,
I feel it rip me away from today
to the periwinkle flower
held only by her stem.
The gentle gust mending
her fallen tears.
looking now at her
withered petals
Fly Away to the Wind.
Matthew Jan 2019
roses
They’re beautiful
They’re loving
Yet they’re so sharp
So quick to blame
So quick to compare it’s hue to yours
They wilt
They die
And they leave nothing behind
Matthew Jan 2019
Hand in hand
they look toward the sky.
red and stormy.
A promise was made.
their grips tighten.
flashbacks of warm days
before the fire consumes them.
Matthew Feb 2019
The stories of girls getting a prince to sweep them off their feet
was all I needed to search for him
asking the boys if
they were my one and only
Until, one day I got a yes
, but he wasn't the one
And as the years went by I gave up hope
Until, the princess walked up to me
her frilly golden curls
and sea blue eyes
sang songs of true love
she swiped the floor from under me
and came in for a kiss.
Now joined by the heart
After the royal wedding.
Matthew Apr 2019
Every time I walk alone..

I see the road

so old and young

so close and far

So daring and Cautious

The road the same, but different

n o w

So drawn to walk there

so I won't


any more
(e)
m o t i o n
Matthew Feb 2019
There's someone outside my window
They're scaring me
Help
Please
PLEASE
PLEASE

..
I don't remember myself liking this
Matthew Feb 2019
It's funny how how the wind with words so eloquently spoken
Speaks only of how you are malevolently broken...
This is a description.
Matthew Feb 2019
"They say the window woman
peers through your eyes
the window pane to your soul
Studying your memories
and trapping you there
The Black and White
Broken Dawn
Of the dark recollections.

Tried my best to make a horror poem.
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