When I was 17,
the wreckage
of my home
smoldering
a hundred miles east
of my degenerate
disposition,
I worked
the carnival,
bathed in iridescent light,
kicking the crap
out of time with
my alligator boots,
spinning carousel stories,
exhaling cigarette smoke
in circles above the perfumed
heads of carnal housewives,
the calliope music
swirling endlessly,
a loop of depot kisses
and whiskey lust,
my leather gloves
softened by torn
ticket stubs and
legerdemain.

Beneath big top canvas,
the lonesome doves
of my past tangled
with boxcar bandits
and funhouse shades.

I set the clowns aflame.

On taught ropes
of reckoning,
I tilt-a-whirled
toward evening’s
inexorable blade.

I carry this pit
With me everyday

Sometimes it's in my
Stomach
My back
My neck
The bottoms of
My feet
The back of my
Mind

It never goes
Away
It just moves

It seems to grow
Barbs when my
Thoughts shift
To it
As they usually
Do seemingly
Out of nowhere

Sometimes early
In the morning
Or late at night
Depending on how
You look at things
I can feel the pit
In mid transit

Looking for the
Discarded trash and
Snapped twigs of
A new nest
A new perch to
Take up residence

There is no point
To the pit
It is absurd
Because it exists
It is the
Materialization
Of all the

Rejected submissions
Sideways glances
Passing snickers
Passive aggressive emails
Shelves of unread books
Dust bunnies in the corner
Creaking of floor boards
Board meetings

Clenching of teeth behind
Closed lips

The fading din of a
Conversation as you
Enter the room

Obelisks of junk mail
That choke the
Arteries of the earth

Lies that canoe through
Your teeth into
The sea of
Pointless small talk

Time

A peach rotting
In a ceramic bowl
In a watercolor kitchen
Until the only thing left
Is the pit

i once had a teacher say to the class "use this free time to space out"
and i couldn't help but laugh and wonder
the dangers of that activity once i ventured into the depths of my mind.
see, a good idea that was not for me.
i've spent enough countless moments and wasted time in my own head to memorise how skipping away into it went.
you do not skip, first off; a tightening rope bounds your legs and demands you to stumble into an endless pit.
rain plummets like bombs upon your unfeeling grey skin,
and a dark shadow's sharp nails dig into your chest
and leave a gaping hole, unwilling to be fulfilled.
your throat closes like the door behind you, so there's not escape,
no screams ready to echo off your prison cells walls,
no hands steady enough to reach out for an exit,
just the blind mistake of opening up a trapdoor,
like an alleyway where you live in fear of each corner you turn into,
and falling into the arms of laughing silhouettes of embodied tears,
whispering lies of how you'll be safe with them,
dimming the light and muting all sounds until
only your thoughts can keep you company,
burning static and fuzzy against your aching brain,
and handing you the long list of reasons
why a smile shouldn't be on your face.
so teacher, may i laugh again at the suggestion,
and shake my head in disagreement,
because believe me,
i do not want to live through that
again.

We spend so much time
Over analyzing what life
Could be
But we'll never try to make it real
Or live it out physically

But there's only so much time
And no promises for tomorrow
No way to reverse what you could of had
No youth that you can barrow

So many dreams to be lived
But the mind, it holds us back
Never took a risk in life
So much imagination we lack

If only you took a chance
To see what beyond the skies
You'd see then that even YOU, can fly

Don't waste your life dreaming
And later wonder why
So many days you could of spent living
Passed in the blink of an eye

She was babysitting
at her house, at the lake
I had come to visit
it wasn't even a date

In the lake swimming
playing with those kids
I guess a spark caught fire
on her heart I placed a bid

Everyone dried off
and they watch T.V.
standing at the bar
she leaned into me

Pink pursed lips parted
as they pressed into mine
a hint of flicking tongue
this memory is fine

Married twenty years
her kisses I still crave
two kids of our own
my heart has been enslaved

you reminded me
we have to eat a peck
of dirt before we die
but why on earth save
the pie in the sky?

© Matthew Harlovic

oh the agony
waiting by the phone for you
but it never rings