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matt nobrains May 2014
befitting of laurels,
saint of the mountains, usher
of calm winds.
befitting of apocalypse but less than
apocrypha,
stepping between fish, guiding all
to bliss and sleep,
as the one who exist only in
eclipse, pushing tides that sink ships.
basements and quarries quietly mutter your
name, unsure of what comes next,
they who live between life, tombstone
your makes
fleeing your breath
child your touch
unknown your thoughts
matt nobrains May 2014
e
you are the triprych,
the eternal extrapolation
of an ethereal concept,
the masterwork of the heavens
twisting perfection
from tier infinite chaos
of infinite space, drawing
wisdom and breath from the soul of
the uncreator.
matt nobrains May 2014
can't catch a break on
the curb of a well, casting your
laughter down to jar the
roots of the earth. feign bleak
or black,
with green screen skin which casts
//
projection(a moth in the woods)
or less your hand flicks like
a spider mounting the ***** of
a pin.
convex and all more convoluted;
shapes in the pale darkness
which ebb from view upon sight,
little insects which scurry into
holes when a rock is lifted.
a warm gust carries over the
glass, ruffling
lace and
water.
matt nobrains May 2014
it's a fact in the course of things,
like iodine in dried seaweed.
men in nicely pressed collard
shirts pick up their kids from school,
watching a lover clip their toe nails.
it's a fact in the course of things,
the sparrows building their nest
the city reeks of dust and
mouths agape we breathe in
the ashes of effigies.
text not sent,
calls not made,
faith in the faithless.
it's a fact in the course of things,
like a stone ground to dust by
a waterfall,
I am too ground to dust
by the column of air
which holds up the sky.
a drifter in malaysia smokes a
cigarette he found on the ground.
the dead girl ******* on video.
right in the palm of your hand
the world is made or broken in
your intestines,
it's a fact in the course of things,
your lost thoughts pool in a
pit somewhere until it's full,
and then you can swim across.
I'll never have children.
matt nobrains May 2014
I'm a dulled edge,
getting dressed, put on your shoes
and sit on the couch, waiting
for the love of your life to come
walking in through the door, singing.
but she doesnt come,
fate stood you up.
no smiling face to greet you,
no reason to get up, to bathe,
to leave the house,  to cook,
to get angry, to feel anything.
the nights are long and full
of drinking with whoever can pass a
bottle. beer. wine. pouring *****
in the wine. blowing half your check
at the bar one night,  and the
other half the next.
and I keep thinking 'where's she at?'
today I woke up early,
took out the trash,  smoked a cigarette
watched the sun rise for a while,
turned on the radio, they were
playing Rachmaninoff, turned the
radio back off.
let the cat chew on my beard for
a while.
I've done just about everything,
what else is there?
so I drive to the store. grabbed
a little basket and put in
soap, two apples, an onion,
buy the wrong kind of cornmeal.
some kale and mushrooms.
instinctively buy some things the
last one liked (I'm terrified I'll never
be able to break that habit).
drive home put down the bags.
start taking out the contents and
looking at them,
placing them methodically on the
table crowded with paper and
***** dishes and crumpled
beer cans
and I stare at the sink
full of the same
and then I look at the
floor covered in garbage
and finally to the kale in
my hand.
"my god," I said to the kale "this
is how suicides happen."
I put it down, smoke
another cigarette and watch
the tree growing in the
courtyard. it'll be here after I'm
dead, one of the ugly stains
left in my wake.
matt nobrains May 2014
hopefully, hopefully,
Your waste builds life
your waste is
an excess of love.
I mark the river
and no
face could
make such town,
trickle this in
misanthropy.
its its its
matt nobrains May 2014
the odious and onerous qualms
I have to sleep in,
everybody's getting
married because they have nothing
better to do
or they think it'll fix their
brokenness,
I just want a ******* behind
a mall dumpster
I want roadhead going eighty
on the way to louisiana
I'm halfway with bourbon
sweats and the crank
smells virginal like young nun ****.
it's funny in that.
the weeds in sunset rains
raids of storm clouds in
mild December
******* pressed firmly against
the vista panes painted
in some somber hues
and we pant quietly
to listen to the spatter of
rain, ******* slow to the
rhythm of the swaying trees,
you draw a peace sign languidly in the fog from
your breath,
and as you come the storm
breaks
and as I come I pull out and *******
on your ***.
everybody's getting married
and having kids like
the ice caps aren't melting
like the jungles aren't burning
like the rich oil barons
aren't playing hopscotch
on our ****.
the idiots.
I admire smokers,
I won't be around when I'm
that bored
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