My heart is racing faster than ever before,
my thoughts refuse to slow down,
everything inside of me is shaking,
all because the possibility of you and me.

I have never been this terrified in my life,
and you haven't the slightest clue,
you're causing flash floods in my veins  
every time you speak my name.

When you say I'm a good man,
I start to forget how to swim,
but if this is what you call drowning,
I don't ever want to breathe again.

I want to tell you how I feel,
but I'm trapped beneath the waves,
forming syllables is walking on water,
and I'm still caught in the storm.

*~ Matthew Walker ~

When I was in the thick of it,
struggling with that depression and all it's horrors,
if I was having a really bad day,
I would climb out my bedroom window
and put a blanket on my roof
and lie there until the sun went down.
It's my favorite part of the day.
It just makes you feel good,
seeing something so beautiful, you know?
That's how I feel when I look at you.
There's a million sunsets in your eyes
and everything feels okay when they meet mine.
You are my favorite part of the day.

*~ Matthew Walker ~

I am fighting for the day
I will be happy at 2am,
my soul content at 3am,
and my heart at peace at 4am.

When I achieve this,
then I know I have made it.

No longer afraid of the dark,
insomnia replaced with rest,
my own thoughts stop haunting,
an end to the whispered weeping.

When I find this,
then I will know success.

Loneliness doesn't know my name,
depression loses his chance to invade,
love finds a home inside my ribcage,
my empty heart has been filled.

When I know this,
I have reached the finish.

*~ Matthew Walker ~

I want to be the one
in their history books
the legend around the campfire,
a name they won't forget.

My heart longs for greatness,
my bones rattle at the thought
of changing this decrepit rock
into something beautiful again.

Wherever I turn my eyes,
people are breaking on the inside,
homes are burning from this pain;
I see creation crying for freedom.

Can I change anything?
This question keeps me awake,
weeping in the latest hours,
begging God to let me fight.

I hear their cries!
I see emptiness in their eyes,
lost children walking the streets,
asking "Why did he leave?"

How is it I love those I've never seen?
My soul aches for their suffering,
there are human beings dying
and nobody is doing anything!

When they asked me what
I wanted to be when I grew up,
It was always a hero,
someone who fought for others.

All my life I've cared too much,
I'm beginning to feel claustrophobic,
I was given this big heart,
then placed in a little world.

I fear I am simply crazy,
a senseless romanticist.
But I curse my insecurities,
they will not **** me!

My dreams are impossible,
they say it's just my youth,
I'll grow out of this heart,
and join the rest of society.

But I violently refuse!
Let me be a light in a dark room,
may I bring hope to all who breathe,
I give my life to change eternity!

*~ Matthew Walker ~

When I say I miss you,
it's not just that I want to see you.
I spoke with you face to face tonight,
but I still miss you.

I miss you like 2am misses the sunlight,
like the warm beach misses snowflakes,
like a fish misses the hillside,
as a poet misses the words he couldn't find.

I want to write you down,
for each part of our lives to rhyme,
I want to be yours and you, mine,
but you're the poem trapped in my mind.

*~ Matthew Walker ~

If you want to love me,
don't just give me your words,
keep your empty promises,
I've had enough of those.

Trace your fingers along my skin
until you can tell my stories,
memorize the hidden scars
and know the depths of my heart.

Cut your fingertips on the cracked
mirrors inside my chest cavity
as they reflect my insecurities
and all my trembling mysteries.

Warm up beside the fires within me,
feed me timber when I begin to fade,
shield me on the dreadful rainy days,
fan my small sparks into flames.

Don't you dare tell me you love me
if you haven't yet wept for me,
felt the sting of my broken pieces,
or burned when I came alive.

*~Matthew Walker~

It's the middle of the night
and I haven't figured out
if these feelings are lying
or if I'm only honest in the dark.

I feel alone every time
I slow down enough to feel
and I'm craving the feeling
your body beside me brings.

I'm not allowed to have you
and it's breaking every bone
inside my aching soul
at least that's my 1am feeling.

Thunderstorms twirl across my skin,
hurricanes dancing up my spine,
lightning erupts from her skies,
and I find myself enraptured inside.

I see galaxies form beneath her skin,
Supernovas waging war within,
fighting to escape her prisons,
and I'm praying she'll let them win.

If her melody is the universe,
I want to wake up beside the stars.
Let me sing in meteor-showers,
dance with Venus in the acid rain,
I'll skip in the asteroid fields,
jumping nebula fences,
because there's no limits;
the places she takes me are endless.


*~Matthew Walker~

Collapsed against the brick wall,
tears puddled on her knees,
devoid of comfort,
she was weeping alone.

This was never supposed to happen.

Heart fractured by a boy,
boss called to let her go,
the death of a loved one,
it could have been anything.

This isn't okay.

I've never known the girl,
never even seen her face;
but I still have to say,
her heart should never break.

This wasn't part of the plan.

Darling, you are more than this,
a greater love is here, I promise.
There will be an end to it;
the aching will cease to exist.

This is all going to be fixed.

Your Father adores you,
His shoulder will catch
your tears before they
have the chance to land.

This is finished.




*~ Matthew Walker ~

If you're the moon,
I'm the sun,
hopelessly chasing night
but you're on the run.

Or maybe I'm the tide.
and as I taste your shore,
I'm ****** out to sea,
desperately longing for more.

I never dreamed of being
your tragic impossibility,
but for you and me,
love was never meant to be.

*m.w.

When the waves are pounding
and the winds are shouting,
trembling in the shadows,
you're crying out.

I will awake from my sleep
and call out to the storm.
Do not be afraid,
I will silence the waves.

Be still,
I crafted the oceans.
Peace, be still,
I set the wind into motion.
Be still.

*m.w.

When Morgan died,
you were right.
When Derek passed,
you were steadfast.

As disease assaulted mom,
you never left us alone.
As sickness overtook my brain,
your goodness constantly overcame.

If my waters are muddied with rain,
my soul will still sing your praise,
because when storms cloud my skies,
your love always pierces the nights.

*m.w.

waking up without a care,
flannel unbuttoned in the sun,
freedom's overgrown hair,
barefoot until winter has won.

repainting the streets with my board
when all the cars have gone to sleep
exploring abandoned buildings
with flashlights and reckless fear.

who cares about tomorrow
as long as I make it today?
Forever is living in the moment
and realizing the future will never come.

I miss home
and all that used to be.
I miss those things
which will never return.

*m.w.

Sure, I may have won the war,
but that doesn't mean battles
won't try to pop up.
I will always have to fight.

Even the good days aren't safe.
My mind is a poison,
it won't stop until all the goodness
is infected and dying.

I am my own greatest enemy.

*m.w.

The way she underlines
her favorite parts in this book
says more than words could.

She never draws straight,
but scribbles little lines
that connect the syllables
in the same way
she etches her little things
one by one, piece by piece
into something worth reading.

I want to highlight
each beautiful characteristic,
underline with sharpie
so her imprint is permanent,
write notes in the margin
to ensure I never forget.

*m.w.

The notion that I will be
inherently depressed for the rest
of my personal eternity is
a stupid choice at best.

I can choose to be
morose when the sky is clear
and see sunshine in the clouds.
The depiction of the storm
is mine to envision.

At least carry an umbrella
when it's sure to pour
and take off your coat
as the flowers begin to blossom.

*m.w

This is my first train ride
and I'm absolutely mesmerized.

You meet a special breed of people
living in uniquely passionate ways.
Saying I'm inspired by their kind
is standing in a blizzard naked and saying
"I'm cold."

The thrill they give me is more
powerful than words can capture,
though I'll try to do my best
like photography with distorted aperture.

I want to write vagabond on a name-tag
and slap it mercilessly on my chest
as a gorilla beats his pounding heart
like a drum before the last stand.

I ditched my seat and found an empty car
to escape the commotion and strum my guitar.
Slowly, people followed and joined me,
I felt like Moses dividing the sea.

I can hardly sing and barely play
but as they listened I felt as if
I was singing the sound of the rain,
washing away the mud in their smiles.

Six people are sleeping on the floor.
Beside me, their silent presence is igniting.
I want to dance in their zeal;
let it burn me, in hopes that the scars will never heal.

Maybe I'm over romanticizing this moment
but I can't squelch the raw audaciousness.
It's in their eyes, and in their laughs,
and in the way they form sentences.

It's burrowed itself into my heart.
In this moment, I feel so alive,
this passion cannot die, the traveler's immorality,
I have become the wanderer's infinity.

*m.w

When the road ahead is
clothed in a cloud of fog,
when my pillow is soaked
in tears of agony,

I will worship
against the sting of feelings.
I will kiss
the dust stained upon your feet.

When the world around me
is walking away,
When those whom I adore
are cursing your name,

My lungs will crack
as I cry out endless praise.
My internal darkness will dissipate
as my fingers caress your scarred back.

I will worship
with my stinging feelings.
I will kiss
your now tear-stained feet.

*m.w.

I'm happy.

That might not sound big
but I've been depressed
since I was a kid
like a broken record
on repeat.

My memories were
and old-school walkman
that can't stop skipping
too many bits and pieces
are missing.

But now music overflows
from my joyful soul
instead of crackling
inside my heart
like radio static.

*m.w.

Shades of color illuminating 4am
Glistening penetrates loneliness
Cracked blinds pierced in the night
Two hearts entangled with light


*m.w.

I'm the wind
tossed and turned
without bounds

I'm the sea
crashing relentlessly
can't control me

I'm a prison
clawing and scratching
trapped within

I'm a tree
ruthlessly bending
uprooting ferociously

I'm dead bones
internally rotting
slowly cracking

I'm abused fruit
dropped and bruised
eat my flesh

I'm my destiny
endlessly lost
so far from free

*m.w.

While driving home today,
a small boy pretended to shoot
at my van with his toy rifle,
as if I were the bad guy.

Our culture is fighting to strip
our children of violence,
"guns are a danger
and they pervert our sons."

I agree,
we should be purposeful
on how we raise our kids.
Violence is not always
healthy for the young heart.

I disagree,
we should not be dictatorial
on how we raise our kids.
Violence is not always
bad for the young heart.

Taking away guns from a boy
is taking away paints from an artist.
Stripping a son of his warrior-spirit
is stealing the melody of his song.

He was John Wayne
wielding his Winchester,
and I was the bad guy
escaping on a stolen horse.

In his mind,
he was a hero.
Why would you want
to strip him of that?

Teaching him self-control
is absolutely necessary,
but removing his ability to learn
is killing his growth as a person.

Don't be the reason he rebels,
teach him to use his sword.

*m.w.

I don't know your favorite tea.
I'm not sure how you get up when you're knocked down.
But I love the places you take me;
the shivers on my spine when you're around.

You've never told me your favorite color
or the things that break your heart.
I'm praying to God there's not another,
the thought of being without you is tearing me apart.

I don't know a thing about you,
but I'm already falling for you.
I don't know anything about you,
but I know I've gotta have you.

*~ m.w. ~

One year ago exactly, I awoke to the miserable news that my dear friend, Morgan Helman, was dead. I called her voicemail and wept my goodbyes. I punched the wall and screamed until I thought my lungs would crack. I wrote a poem to express the ravaging anguish I was experiencing, and to try and honor her life. I read it as a eulogy at her funeral. In it, I mentioned a time when she had asked me to write a happy poem. Everything I had ever written was a result of sadness or some other tortured emotion. I apologized that what I wrote for her was far from happy. I told her someday I would a write a happy poem, though I doubted my own words. One year later, I have walked away from the depressed mental state I used to call home. On the anniversary of her passing, I completed this "happy" poem. It's different than what I'm used to creating. It might not be as artistic as some of my other poetry. But it is a vivid expression of the first step in a new direction. This poem is dedicated to Morgan Helman and the legacy of love she left in her wake.

You Are

Resonating laughter
as the child plays,
hallway smiles
on bad days.

Disney movies
when I'm sick,
lightsaber battles
as a kid.

Rope swings
for make believe Peter-Panning,
backyard sprinklers
spraying the trampoline.

Hot soup
after it snows,
Refreshing popsicles
when the sun glows.

Warm cookies
melting in my mouth,
playing cards
at Grandma's house.

Blazing campfires
engulfed in inspiration,
jam sessions
with passionate musicians.

Barefoot freedom
in the grass and on the beach,
Sandy paradise
sinking beneath my feet.

Captivating books
as it gently rains,
favorite songs
when I'm disarrayed.

Intimate poetry
as my soul sings,
genuine happiness
spilling out of me.

Caring parents
whose admiration lasts,
trustworthy friends
who remove my masks.

Comforting arms
when my friend dies,
calloused hands
pulling tears from drowning eyes.

Raw love
strung on splintered wood,
My God
you are everything good.

~ m.w. ~

heart torn in half
dream of future
reminisce on past
emotionally unsure

this isn't what Jesus meant
when he said a kingdom
divided cannot stand
but the truth still resounds

my heart skips when she smiles
or laughs or talks or breathes
but with equal strength I collapse
when the thought of the other calls

love was meant for one
two war for my mind
will the past return
or has the future won?

Sitting beside you for hours 
and talking about nothing 
that meant everything
is something worth missing. 

The way you scrunch up
your face when you laugh 
uncontrollably and the sound
that's adorable to only me
is something worth knowing. 

I've never met someone else
who cared enough to think
of me through the night
just because she thought 
I was something worth her time.

Laying on the floor crying
because I can't get your
flawless image from my mind
when you're clearly gone
is not worth our time. 

I'm truly sorry I faded
in and out of your life.
I wasted your time.
Your love was simplicity 
and I complicated it.

Sometimes when my mind drifts
it goes back to endless hallways
and that all too familiar scent
overtakes my senses

My spine actually cringes
at the thought of the needles
piercing the central nervous system
they forgot to numb

my thoughts swim in the pools
that formed in my mother's eyes
as she quoted the neurologist
"your son is dying."

I can still taste the confusion
that drowned my confidence
and left me wondering
if it'll ever resurface

my dreams never stopped crying,
if they even have the chance to exist
they're nothing short of terrifying,
nightmares replaced the rest

it's odd that I can remember
the sickness that consumed me
but completely and utterly forget
the happiness that prequeled it

we place immeasurable weight
on worthless unnecessaries
mindsets carousel pointless
reverberation off desolate hearts

school, jobs, money, houses,
cars, clothes, shoes, religion, media,
materialistic vacancy

food is waste
shelter is empty
water is dead

I don't want to survive
if I'm not alive

I miss you.

Though I've never felt your touch,
or heard your laugh,
or seen you cry,
or had a deep talk late into the night.

My chest literally aches physically
as I'm longing to be the one
you call when you need someone
and the one you know as your own.

How can a heart miss someone
it's never even known?
you have reshaped my ideas
and become my definition of love.

I miss you so
though you would never know
how my soul yearns for you
because you are not my reality.

I miss you so much.

One of the saddest things to me
Is how my generation
Has been deceived to believe
That there are rules
To poetry

That thought is absurd and profane
I’d even take another step
And call it inhumane

Poetry is an expression of being
A way to be free

I finished writing this poem
When I realized something
This doesn’t just apply to poetry
But to all writing

Essays and poems and stories
If we all wrote the same way
We would be so boring

Write different
Write about what you want
Not what they say
Do the complete opposite
Of their way

But it’s not just about writing different
It’s how your pencil
Or other writing utensil
Moves across the paper
It’s about the breath you take
Right before you pour
Your heart on the white sheet
It’s about the way you see

So don’t just write things differently
Write in your own way
Create a new style
And then you’ll know
You’ve gone the extra mile

I finished this poem again
Thought now would be a great time to end
And then I realized something more
This isn’t just about writing
This is life
Break those rules
Don’t conform

It’s not just about breaking rules
Or being some kind of lawless hipster
It’s about being yourself

It’s not always about where you go
No, sometimes it’s about how you flow

There’s something special
Buried deep inside
It’s chained down
Release it
And it will give you life

Yes
I guess you can follow
The rules and regulations
If you enjoy being assimilated
Into a system
That was better
Before it existed

You have two options
Pretend you never saw this
And stay hopeless
Or stand up
And become righteous
I highly suggest the second
But of course
I’m biased
Because I hate the idea
Of being hopeless

You have the ability
To be something
Wonderfully crazy
Something that no one else can be
Because you are you
Different than me
So be your own
Not some societal clone
Be you and you alone

I urge you
Stand against conformity
Don’t be he or she or me
Be something completely unique

I run with all my might
Can’t put up a fight
Whether I run left or right
I can never find the light
Consistently sprinting into the night

Never gaining ground
Always fallin’ down
I feel like I’m gonna drown
In my own helplessness
Reverse exodus
Is this my personal pestilence?

How did I become so broken?
With all this burning emotion
Broken spirit
Broken heart
Broken person

I need somebody to save me
Pull me from the fire
Wash away my blood
Show me love

But where can I find this someone?

All I desire is healing
Nothing else is even appealing
Here I am kneeling
Begging to be free
Savior, unbreak me.

If I was to say
I wasn’t hurting
I’d be a liar

If I were to say
I’m not confused
I’d be lying

But that’s okay
Because you’ll love me anyway

In the strongest storm
You find me
During the hardest times
You stay beside me

Even if I don’t feel your touch
I know you’re there
Because you’ll never leave

You always love
Forever and ever and ever
You will love.

leaving town is leaving home
though I've only lived here
long enough to name a few streets
and memorize a handful of names

in three months time
a foreign city became
equally precious to me
as the place I was born

it's not the place
that cries out to me
not a feeling of belonging
that makes me sick to leave

it's the way you look
at me
i'm anxious to look away
from you

because you have become home to me.

*m.w.

When Morgan died,
you sat on the floor with me
and strummed your guitar.
We just sang the words,
"you give and take away
still I will choose to say
Lord, blessed be your name"
for what seemed like an eternity.

That was the most broken eternity
I have ever lived.
But never in my life
have I felt so cared about.

Thank you for not trying to give me advice.
It meant so much more when you sat and sang
while I sobbed and wept.

That night would have been a darker hell
ending in the deepest regrets
if it weren't for you.

This is one of those days
I don’t know what to pray about
This is one of those days
I don’t really want to praise your name
This is one of those days    
I feel so alone

But I’ll close my eyes and thank you anyway
Thank you God, for giving me the ability to breathe
Thank you God, for letting me sing
Thank you God, for helping me move my feet

I know if my mom was beside me now
She would raise her hands and say
“You do all things well!”
I know if Derek was here today
He would raise his hands and give you praise
So I will do the same

Thank you God for staying beside me
Even if I don’t feel it
You’re always there

sometimes I get the urge
to talk to you
somedays I want more than anything
to see your face
every single day I long
to feel your eyes piercing mine

I want to remember
the gentleness of your voice
I'm uncontrollably craving
to be captivated by your love

I need to be lost
in the warmth of your smile
I really just want
to be with you again

but I can't
because you're dead.


*m.w.

It's been over seven months
And I don't miss you any less
You haven't left my thoughts once
And my dreams are still a mess

Two days ago, I wept for an hour
I cried out your name with each fallen tear
Last night I ran from sleep seven times like a coward
Stop haunting my dreams, I need you here

I'm starting to forget the way you formed words
The few syllables I still remember sound like art
It's as if you're silently begging to be heard
Your voice quit making me smile, it just shatters my heart

It's been two hundred and thirty days
And I still haven't gone a night without seeing your face

I talked to a cat the other day,
No, that’s not lingo for dude,
I literally talked to cat,
I asked this cat,
“Hey cat, why are you always laying around?”
And it said told me,
“Because human, sometimes you just have to relax,
Stop moving all the time and take a moment to breathe.”

I talked to a dog the other day,
I asked,
“Why is your tail always wagging?”
He said,
“Because I find happiness in the little things,
I’m joyful because I have food to eat,
And because someone loves me.”
“But sometimes your owner gets mad at you,
Why do you go back to him?”
He said,
“Life is too short, it isn’t worth hating,
Forgive and keep on smiling.”

I talked to a rat the other day,
I didn’t have to ask him much,
“What’s the point of living when you’re known as ****,
What’s the point when you’re just a rat?”
He told me,
“Man, life isn’t about what anyone else thinks,
It’s about choosing to be who you want to be,
Accept that fact and you’ll be free.”

I talked to a bird the other day,
I asked her,
“Why are you always singing?”
She told me,
“Because music brings me peace,
In times of pain, it rescues me.”

I talked to a man the other day,
I asked him,
“What’s the purpose of life?”
He stared blankly for a few moments.
And then, with his head down,
He uttered three simple words,
“I don’t know.”

Sometimes its alright to look to the simple creatures,
Instead of the almighty man, for a little bit of wisdom.

Of course,
None of this actually happened,
Because animals can’t speak.

Or can they?

Rap songs, television, social networks, *******,
Media always seems to connect a woman’s worth with her body.
Our culture would like us to believe that girls exist
To make boys confident in their masculinity.
According to our broken society,
Females are just objects with which man can devour in his sick and twisted fantasies.

You’re told that you are just a play piece
In some perverted creature’s phantasmagoric wonderland.
Nothing more than an image for a debauched man
To indulge in selfish desires with his filthy hand

Unless you have a ***** chest,
Can shake your *****, or move your body smoothly,
You’re completely worthless.

****. *****. *****.  
Such words have been deemed acceptable
To call girls on a regular basis
And apparently if you’re joking
It’s not only accepted but also humorous

“You are too skinny.
You’re too fat.
You’re too short, too tall,
Not pretty enough, not **** enough,
Your hair is too rough,
Too much acne and not enough make up,
Your eyelashes aren’t long enough.”

No matter how hard you try,
Somebody will find a way to tear you down
Until you cry.
They will find a way to make sure you know
That you are simply not good enough.

But it’s not just the media that treats ladies like they’re beneath man’s feet.

Even the church will turn you into nothing.
They conceal their objectification underneath a façade of purification,
All the while only bringing condemnation.

Put on some clothes or you’re going to go to hell.
Usually it’s not that direct.
But what the heck,
That’s what they’re saying.
Jesus’ love is obviously not what they’re portraying.

“Modest is hottest.”
I have heard that phrase hundreds of times before.
In fact, I used to say it.
But then I realized by saying it
I’m using the same approach as everyone else.
When I said it, I turned women into objects.
Maybe it was a more pleasant object, but nevertheless, an object, a piece of flesh.

They say that it’s better for you to wear a one piece and ditch the bikini.
And that you shouldn’t wear shorts above your knees.
They say by wearing extra clothes you’re just doing your duty
And helping a brother out.

But they have this expectation that it’s your obligation
to overcome their ******* for them.

Don’t get me wrong,
I love when a girl is genuinely sweet enough
To go out of her way just to keep my lustful thoughts at bay.

And I’m not saying women should run around naked either.
I appreciate a girl who wears clothing
I’m just saying the only reason a girl should cover up
Is because she has self-respect.

It isn’t her job to combat man’s wicked thoughts.

Instead of dealing with their problem,
These Christian boys decide to point fingers and say that women are to blame.
“If only she would put on more clothes I wouldn’t watch **** or *******.”
That is such a lie!
If men successfully got women to wear clothes that covered every bit of skin,
They would still find ways to imagine.

She does not need to put on more clothing so that you will stop *******.
Men need to take responsibility and stop objectifying.

When women speak this truth,
The guys say they don’t understand
Because they’re not a man.
But I am of your species.
I’ve had the same thoughts, same dreams, same fantasies.
I understand!
I have to fight lust everyday.
I have to use every ounce of strength
To turn my eyes away from that computer screen.
I know what it’s like to be a dude.
I’m one of you.
I was the boy who hid behind a mask
And tried to say it wasn’t my fault.
But we have to open our eyes and see that we are at fault.

It is not her fault that she is told day after day
That unless she reveals skin,
She will never be loved by him.

What is wrong with our society?!
Do we actually think that it’s okay to treat women like this?
You are not a piece of meat
For this animal called man to hunt during his daily heat!
You are a human being!
You are special and unique.
You are all one of kind.
You are not an object.
You are not the ***** words they call you.
You’re mothers, daughters, sisters, and lovers.
You are not a *** image.
You are a princess.
You deserve so much more than you have been given.
If you took everything this world had to offer and multiplied it by five thousand,
You would still be worth more than what we have to offer.  
Every single woman on this earth is lovely, and not in a lustful way.

Even at this place I call home
I feel completely alone

The ones I love most
Know nothing of my troubles

I act like everything is alright
But the second someone comes near
I raise my walls
Prepared for a fight
Holding in every last tear

I can’t be myself
I can’t let them see

So I bury it all
Deeper and deeper
Within me

But hiding only brings more pain