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Matt Jursin Oct 2010
Broken heartbeats feel like broken bones.
This soul stripped bare, so naked and alone.
High hopes turned into severed ropes...
Severed ties, bad excuses, and alibis.
Massive contusion and mass confusion, you're a weapon of mass destruction and illusion.
Just some thoughts that turned into a poem...
Matt Jursin Jun 2010
All i know is...

Not much.
Not today.

My mind is tired, old and decayed.
Typical monday.
Burnt, fried, rotten, moldy, a little bit dismayed.

So dont get on my nerves, they're frayed.
Dont get on my nerves, not today!
Matt Jursin May 2010
Sometimes you have to let go...
watch the glass fall in slow motion...
shatter into little pieces...
of broken hearts, so crystaline...

Eyes capture everything.
Fractals fractured.
Into failed dreams.

This emptyness within me, so much harder than it seems...
Matt Jursin Mar 2010
Rest In Peace Hello Poetry.

You used to be so young and fresh...

Now you're that crackhead ***** I see standing in front of the liquor store begging for change.

I remember when you were alluring and attractive and people used to enjoy your company...

Now we all back away from you like the loud, drunk, obnoxious lady at the holiday work party. You know what I mean, there's always one. You turned into that annoying ***** and i hate you for it.

Lastly...I remember all the nice things people used to say about you. Those things were true.

Now the only truth is that you ****, and are stubborn, and wont listen to reason. Just like my Ex....who ironically...I wish was R.I.P.

Sigh.
Shrug.
Insert appendage here()
Matt Jursin Mar 2010
I wanted to write somethig really profound...
But my mind doesnt think in words...
It thinks in examples.
And this isnt a good one.
Matt Jursin Mar 2010
I got into an altercation over a little alliteration. I offended and cant amend it. It was more than an argument, I was almost arrested. I obviously ****** someone off with my honest offering. I wasn't teasing. See, all I said was pretty please...Will you **** my *****, while winding up my windmill and blowing between my *******?
I dunno what I was thinking, dont ask=-)
Matt Jursin Mar 2010
Here I sit, stale as a pile of ****.
Here I sit, wasting my wit... 
Nothing to inspire...
Nothing to remember...
No deep message to get.
Im jus' killin time...
Writin' lines that rhyme.
Freestylin' off the fingers as fast as I can think.
Flyin' off the handle...
Im ele-mental...call me Zinc.
Secure in my manly dreams, not afraid to wear pink.
I'm a fan of good things, I speak them in tongue and write them in ink.
Im fed up with frauds and emo kids that think they're rock stars...
And smokers inhaling tar sticks...
In their smokey bars...that smell like ****.
I dont get it.
A couple things I'll never miss.
But here I sit, wasting my wit.
These are just a few frustrations I'd like to forget.
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