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Matt Fatt Mar 2015
a desolate deception of hopeless self expression
a perceptive inception of artistic retention
is this a conversation?
or a list of movie quotes?
pop cultures ascension to our first world dimension
feel the tension...
feel the pulling of the mind
as we spit rhymes about hate crimes ignored for an episode of Family Guy
is this truly the vision of the revolution of rhythm
cause it seems more like derision or apathetic decision
speaking of dismantling systems when we're all caught up in them
when will we be finished?
when we get off our ***** and take molotovs to tyranny
instead of crying in beer glasses
will that amend the cracks in foundation or just be a punchline
we take breaks in the morning noon and nighttime
and we havent been fine in a long time
with cops murdering and wars being waged
we're more concerned with grocery lines and making a good wage
lets end currency cause its holding us back
and let our abilities have the first crack
spread the wealth of the knowledge of a skill or a trade
help those who are enfeebled to make a way
and do it because its the right thing to do
not because you want a soul indebted to you
property is robbery its as simple as that
so raise your black flag and lets take freedom back
Matt Fatt Mar 2015
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.
Matt Fatt Mar 2015
i act like i'm something special
when we all know nothing is
and the people sit there and they judge me
for the all stupid **** that i did

but I've woken up sweating in jail cells
sick from all the DTs and shakes
and i watched the woman i loved
leave a week before our wedding date

and i can remember the first time a pig
put his gun against my ******* head
said "make a move you ******* ******
and i swear to god that i'll shoot you dead"

i've seen more friends than i care to remember
passed out with needles in their veins
i've wept beside to many grave sides
to ever wanna go that way

i've shredded my throat since i was twelve
smoking a minimum two packs a day
and even at my very worst
i still can't bring myself to pray

i've lost far too much in this world
for someone whose not yet twenty five
all i can say at the end of the day is
"though i may fail at least i try"

so i sit back and let people judge me
cause they don't know the **** i've been through
and i'll keep saying i'm something special
even though we all know its not true
Matt Fatt Mar 2015
I do not sing the lines of my love for you
the words in my poems aren't yours to keep
I will not look fondly back at what I had with you
nor will I sit in my self pity and weep and drink
I will not fight to have you in my life
I will not feel bad and go out for a rebound

you don't seem to understand when you didn't stay all you did was take my agony and strife away
and you keep trying your flighty games of illustrious self deception in a style of repetition to try and wreck what little comfort I've managed to attain in an exaggerated fit of your own issues trying to push them into my brain

I don't need to see the rules to the game you're running to know that they're written in pencil and subject to sudden change
I don't need to see the pieces to know they're me and I want you to know that I will not be played
I will move on to greater things and forget you as if you were just a summer fling to put behind me in the wake of an execution of a bigger dream

you will see my name on the marquee and you will remember all the times you thought less of me
you will remember the things I said about how I will go on to be someone not dragged by negativity
I will move forward to sing on but your name will never even disturb the lines that I scream in my songs

I do not look at our times as more than a winter
I won't even put forth the time to be bitter
I will not think of you in anyway
you're finally gone and that's good enough for me
Matt Fatt Mar 2015
an archaic urge built upon by a superficial witness to our self demise
ever present, ever burning, ever singing
in a doubtful existential mass existence of a crestfallen fallacy of humanity
always running, always fighting, always flighty
flying from an animalistic ruse of endorphins and testosterone fueled lust
never trusting, never stopping, never indulgent
terrified and stumbling from a fear of losing civility and slipping society
can not lose it, can not fight it, giving in

lost sleep as a phosphorescent nightmare of an ejaculatory dream comes true
it is starting, it is winning, I am reeling
intertwined passion from a source of discontent upon early morning reflections
I am thrusting, I am grunting, we are magic
a moment in time suspended by the overwhelming feelings rushing through us
don't stop moving, don't stop biting, just don't stop
a pleasurable torture assaulting the senses of two young lovers star crossed night
isn't lovely, isn't ending, isn't loving

sorrow ridden ecstasy of an aborted relationship from a friends turned lover ever sorry, ever guilty, lost to passion
a nauseating remembrance of the loves lost to a dive into passionate embrace
can not fix it, can not heal it, can't atone
a driving force fixated upon the upper minded awareness of a baser urges problem
I gave in, I lost it, not my friend
another mistake made for the mentally aesthetic feelings found for anothers lover
it's so wrong, it's so right, I am sorry

— The End —