******* for making me look down
When you deserve to suffer under my gaze.

at a certain time and space,
the density of absence
threw me off my axis.
i felt like atlas,
bridging the gap between
theory and praxis, text and world.

© Matthew Harlovic

You

Whoever you are
Sitting in the dark shadow
Of the black widow
That hovers atop your

Second sight

I'll find you in the
Ego-less corners
Of the 3rd dimension
Department of duality

Limelight

She told me she was incomplete
she stared at me and cried.
We tried to fly so far away
And sink into the sky.

Nothing ever took my breathe away as much as her.
So I took every action just to see inside her world.
If I were lost I'd find a hand to blindly pull me through.
she kept this land more secret than the places that I knew.

More colors than I've ever seen some new inside of me,
Her energy surrounded us and swept me off my feet.
So now I fall upwards away from anything she was,
I asked myself if she would love me, now I know she does.

She asked herself if I was there
To free her from her dream.
It seems to be that I was sleeping now It's only me.
I ask myself again if I knew her from down inside.
An hour passed and then at last her memory had died.

I knew I was so incomplete
Alone I woke and cried.
A half forgotten memory
Of a woman not alive.

Much adored is the dead poet

Within the glass case
Away from dirt
Amongst the books pressed
Rests his heart

Such was the silence he dreamed
When words streamed
Like riverine flow
In all might arose
Seeking the order in chaos

Orderly bound now his name
In peace standing behind wooden frame
Yet with the ceaseless commotion of wait...

Much adored rests the dead poet.

Lucid dreaming is the doorway
        to the unconscious.
So dream.
Do not stay closed
        behind cement barricades
        blocking the moon
        from shining.
Live.
Each second is for you.
The tumbling of life
         does not promise
            anything.
In one breath
you can have
        a time table
        handed to you.
A distinct framework
        of how much
        longer you shall be.
Stay in illusion.
Keep in mind
that very little
is worthy of
being screamed about.
Politics
        and
people games
        are not
         the substance
        of existing.
Picture colourful images
         that flutter
          playfully
            across the
           mental horizon.
A traffic light
      will
       blink
red, yellow, green.
A noise
        will dominate
         the shading sky.
These mean nothing.
Moments of distraction
        soon
         gone away.
Focus on fantasy.
Allow yourself
the freedom to
         celebrate
        the essence
        of harmony.
When you die,
       it will be
         your dreams
         that are
          remembered.
Breathe.
It's just
      a bad day,
      not a bad life.