This morning,
my father and I
chased leaves together
after we argued for an hour
on relationship complexities.
And after a while of paved palms,
he bellowed with a fistful of yellow,
when you waver with the wind,
things will fall in your favor.
Since this morning, the wind
has been wavering Eastward.

© Matthew Harlovic

I will not sugar coat the truth anymore
with similes and metaphors.
I may have a sweet tooth for wordplay
but not for fabrication.

© Matthew Harlovic

Knowledge is infinite, exponentially growing
We learn to live without ever really knowing.

© Matthew Harlovic

If the world revolved around you,
injustice, insufficiency, and insolence
would get stuck in your dreads.

© Matthew Harlovic

There’s a widow in the windowsill
weeping like a willow, weeping like a willow
while her child tries to fall asleep
weeping in his pillow, weeping in his pillow.

© Matthew Harlovic

The pipes froze as the toilet overflowed
with pangs of guilt and bile bitten clothes.
She tried to dispose of what she ate
from breakfast to lunch to her snacks after eight.
From dieting to shame, infatuation came,
from the overwhelming pain of being herself.
Scared to ask for help, she took matters to her hands.
One to hold her hair, the other to her thyroid gland.

© Matthew Harlovic

Inviting security into your life
invites insecurity into your life.

© Matthew Harlovic