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I fell asleep as a wave crashed,
Water from the sea of glass nipped
My toes. When I woke, the world
Seemed strange; The same yet
Smaller. Perhaps as a note in
A bottle; words written by small
Hands and sent off with wish
Of such grand adventures.
I radiated heat
Like the sun
But it wasn't until your arms touched me
That my blood began to run cold
 Sep 2016 Matthew Harlovic
dusk
what am i chasing,
really?

behind the smoke and the empty bottles,
behind the tears and the dried-up coughs
behind the life i know is leading me to ruin.

is it you?

or is it what you stand for,
the laughter on windy days,
the split-second hugs and the
sadness in my eyes you say you
feel sorry for.

and then there's the broken glass.
from last week on my bedroom floor.
after i threw an empty jack daniels bottle
at the wall in frustration.
and maybe a little pain.

metaphorical? perhaps.
tangible? perhaps.

but each time i reach out to
it all that answers me is
a bottle of pearls.
I like playing with words
Sometimes drinking coffee
I imagine I'm a ballerina drawing swords
To make my mind flee -
I need no drugs
But the little man in my coffee cup shrugs,
He whispers
'try some sativa'
I am stubborn
I pick him by his toes
And feed him to the bugs
'Viva!
The independent mind!' Says Shiva!
I'm now a samurai...
doing ballet moves.
When you endeavour to grow
You'll need to learn how to garden
Because there will be some weeds
nestled in those "empty spaces"
 Sep 2016 Matthew Harlovic
dusk
little
boy blue,
won't you keep
the letters i wrote
you in the chest of
drawers at your bedside? won't you
lie and say you miss me when
all you miss is my words? i thought
i left you behind with the gloom but maybe
all i needed was to hear your voice again, to
feel you running around in my head, screaming the
words i could never speak. isn't it funny
how the ones we lose are the
ones we need ; the ones we
ache to let slip, almost
as if we were
never planning on
folding them
away?
one to ten to one ;
 Sep 2016 Matthew Harlovic
dusk
but am i really drunk? or
have i just been drinking
water from my alcohol bottles,
pretending to feel the burn as it slides
down my throat?

or have my cigarettes been not
lighted all this while, just me *******
away at tasteless white sticks of tobacco,
staring at my ceiling and wishing i was dead?

i'm so predictable, it's starting
to hurt,

because instead of dreams, i'm counting nightmares.

instead of lovers, i'm counting bones.

instead of life, i'm living hell.
again, not my best work i'm sorry
 Sep 2016 Matthew Harlovic
Bailey
Words daze me and spin me into that state of mind where all is fine.
Mania mania mania and not a query is made.
It's hot outside, frostbite---freezing cold sunburns.
They all thought that I was awake but I knew, just as I know.
Oh I know. This poetic infection has got me again, and as years pass...I'll see those colors appear in my memories.
They'll streak across the beautiful face that I am transfixed upon.
I know this, I know. But it feels so good!
And there are slight differences that shall give me more time:
Laughter and actions.
They are the antidote to this poetic infection.
They clear the path for my irises.
Eyes can now take in the real world,
lead it into my mind and soul.
Yes, he's a safe one.
You're a safe one for me and my short lifespan.
 Aug 2016 Matthew Harlovic
dusk
i still think about you
when i'm taking the train home,
in the middle of the day,
i still think about you
when i'm sitting at my desk,
scribbling numbers and calculations,
i still think about you*
when i'm trying my hardest not to.

i told you i loved you
and you, knowing that,
walked out of my life without a look back,
and i think that's the hardest
thing to come to terms with.

the knowledge that someone would
know you loved them and
leave.
h.
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