We are all afraid about something,
not of something. For the reason
that there is no fear in abstraction,
it is always in relation to something.

© Matthew Harlovic

it does not
matter what
i do because
it does not
matter to you.

© Matthew Harlovic

I walked through the Harrison
Street Fair earlier in the afternoon
with the expectation and angst
you would be there as well.
Much like the year before, vendors
and artists were sprawled about the
street from Cuyler Avenue to Humphrey.
Rough-and-ready goods and chattels were
perched on display, but my eyes were fixed
on the crowd. I thought I would walk into
you and your new boyfriend, but you were
nowhere to be found. Perhaps we missed each
other; perhaps you never went to the fair.
But be that as it may or may not,
I thought we would walk into each other.

© Matthew Harlovic

You’ve stuck with me
through thick and thin
just like a tick,
you’re under my skin.

© Matthew Harlovic

For the wistful youth
bitten by the wit
of the forbidden fruit,
loose lips strip the tree of its roots.

© Matthew Harlovic

I used to be a bright boy before the white noise,
disrupted my poise and ****** the joy
out from the world around me.
It’s astounding to see such a change.
No it’s strange but I found a way to get around the grey
but you’d probably say I’m deranged if I told you.
No I’m not scolding you I’m holding you to the acquisitions
you back with whack facts you extract from your fruitless
disposition. Act aloof but you and I both know it’s truthful
the only loophole here is feedback so don’t fear the relapse
and I won’t appear so relaxed to you.

I used to love the sound of white noise while I sat in bed.
I found it reminiscent to the voice in my head.
I counted sheep to the static;
the ratchet put me to a deep sleep.

I used to be a quiet boy before I found a slight noise
coming through the television.
I can’t tell you what it sounds like now
so you’ll just have to listen for yourself
Momma call the technician.
Something’s wrong with the transmission.
I no longer see a picture.
Momma fix it ‘cuz its pixelated.
Momma listen, I’d fix it myself if I had the proper tools
but school never taught me how to.
Wow look at what I amounted to
when you took the time of day to stay around
and watch what I’m doing when you could’ve found out
why I wasn’t viewing pleasure like I used to.

© Matthew Harlovic

i lost my identity
to a friend of me
but it's alright,
we all got our tendencies.
maybe it was not meant to be
but you meant to me
a lot more than the time
you spent on your knees.
not to whine but i can't
get you out of my mind.
think i'm out my right mind
thinking bout what's left
i thought it was high time
to get things off my chest.

© Matthew Harlovic

Darling, forgive me for my wishful thinking,
but I’ve been passing up a lot of pretty pennies lately.
Ever since you caught my eye in between those box seats
I’ve been tossing you pick-up lines as worthless as the
gum on my shoe. Silly me, for thinking that you gave
me another chance after you wished me well, and
well, I wished that we were more than “just friends”.
Darling, forgive me for my wishful drinking,
but I’ve been trying to pass up a lot of heartache lately.
All the times that I’ve paid mind to you, aren’t well spent.
So, this is my farewell, but let me tell you it isn’t fair
that you lost interest in my expense. Then again, shame
on me, for wishing for change after I threw it all away.

I’ve dubbed my wastebasket the wishing well
Well I wish for nothing more than a dime of
creativity to hit me,  ripple across my wrinkles
Knocking some sense in,
sink beneath my pores
So swallow my codswallop wishing well
because this is another petty penny for you.

© Matthew Harlovic

'As toddlers we sat on that
timber floor, playing like wolves.
You tugged on my collar,
lifted my chin and made a promise
that we would be brothers
till death did you part.
But death didn’t do a part
in breaking up our pack.
Throughout the years you taught me
how to hunt and gather
my props, you taught me
how to front and swagger,
you wanted me to be at my best
before you left. But you never told me that
you had to leave.
Then when you started to stray, I tried to trail
your footprints, thinking that you were just
past that tree line waiting for me to catch up.
But the farther that I went, the farther
we grew a part. I can forgive you
for never giving me a warning
but those years that I fought
as a lone wolf still haunt me.

© Matthew Harlovic

I just wish I could make you understand
but words are words so I guess I can’t.

© Matthew Harlovic

Head held high, flexing the shell
bright lifestyle, I know it too well.
It’s a tall tale to tell but its best that you know
that things get better at the end of the road
Not too long ago, I felt the same way
I dealt with demons that crept in the grey
And maybe it’s hard enough to ask for help
but it’s harder to watch yourself
give up once you’ve left the shelf

Nah, I couldn’t stomach the pain
like a trumpet, I blew the in out of sane.
I popped open a vein to paint my blues, violet
and threw a pair of cans on to block out the silence.
I’m not defiant; I defy any tyrant
that tries to buy my compliance.
I ride with the giants, stride like Midas
minus the greed, all I need is kindness.

Spread your wings; shed the ego
live amid the kings like a needle.
Be your own hero, succeed the sequel
take charge, zero in on the easel.
Reach for the stars, you are an artist
Van Gough goals; erase all the hardships.
I may try my hardest
but I’m not the smartest
but good work ethic leads to a harvest.
Reap my carcass, long after I’m gone,
brains over brawn, shame on you all
for thinking that these walls can hold me in.
You get the memo? I’m better than I’ve ever been.
Binge drinking is a sickness in itself
try to **** the pain but the pain kills the help
as well as low thinking it will **** your brain cells
if you try to **** the pain, you will **** yourself

© Matthew Harlovic

You were such a worry wart.
You would dwell on the possibility
of us breaking up. You always
said if and when the
relationship ends, you’d ****
yourself. You said you couldn’t
live without me, but then you
dumped me. Although months have
passed without response from you, I haven’t
come across your name in the newspaper
nor has it come up on the television.
I know you won’t **** yourself.
I don’t want you to, but what I want is
for you to stop being such a worry wart.  

© Matthew Harlovic

Writer’s block is the misplaced brick in one’s conceptual “university”.

© Matthew Harlovic

the pervasiveness of this type of grief
is hard to comprehend: it's debilitating.
it's the first thing you think about when you wake up,
and it eats at you at varying levels of pain, and anger,
and sadness throughout the day.

onto year two.
jimmy i miss you.

© Matthew Harlovic

i saw the sunrise in mundelein and for the first time, i felt alive.
i plucked a muscadine from the vine, casting aside the rind;
my girl was surprised to find me in a different frame of mind.
she sighed, i hope you remain aligned.
i took her by my side and said, "i made up my mind".
i forgave myself for my past crimes and that was the last time
i brought up my past life.

© Matthew Harlovic

Buddha was the broken hourglass
that spilled seconds across my backyard.
Mother Earth scolded him for his slipup,
so I smoothed her over with my minute hands.
She told me that he who skips an interval
needs to double back his ticks
so, grain by grain, tick by tock.
She rewound my hands to round out
the stonewashed garden that was being fabricated.
So I steadily swept shards of seconds
under the rugged rug of ill will.
I riddled ripples within her granular skin,
skidded stones across her carved clock
face fitting ****** features together like cogs.
Buddha shook the soil off
and fixed his gaze on my clockwork.
He explained that patience is key
if one wants to harvest his feast.
Before the goods go about,
pivots and rivets need to tie together.
Mother Earth collected her thoughts
and agreed with his concept.
I finished my work, stepped back,
admiring the hourglass I rebuilt.