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Matthias Aug 2013
The leaky pipe in the basement needs to be checked periodically, so Henry ventures down with wrench in hand. Henry flips the light switch, coast is clear. He walks to the pipe and with a turn stops the watery drips. The newly found silence gives Henry’s senses clarity, which frightens him. As he stands, the figure emerges from the shadow in the corner. Henry is left frozen not knowing what to do. The voice echoes through the room and every vain in Henry’s body.
                                                                ­     DEATH is closer to you than you think,
                                                         ­                       and he can smell your fear.
                                                          ­         DEATH is watching closer than you know,
                                                          ­                          and he is always near.
                                                          ­             DEATH has made his acquaintance,
                                                  ­                               and escape is impossible.
                                                    ­                        DEATH will follow your steps,
                                                         ­                and you should run if you’re able.
Henry then runs as fast as he could out of the cellar. He found refuge in the throng of nurses coming back from lunch. Feeling he has put a full days in, he departed for the only place he remotely felt safe, his home.
Before he knew it, Henry was back on the train heading home. Thinking the only safe spot is away from that cellar, like the cellar could keep death at bay. Frantically Henry looks around for the evil spirit but saw nothing. No one was on the train, which was odd even for that time of day. Henry’s ears pick up a sound of footsteps coming from behind him, and he prays to G-d that it is only a delusion. Next to Henry sits a man who has placed a hat upon his lap, the same hat that has caused a shudder in his voice for the last few days. Before Henry could speak, the man says we are finally alone. Knowing full well that death has come to beckon him home, Henry sits for the end. The man sits silently, furthering the fear of Henry. “Why does he have to torture me? Just end it please,” thinks Henry. The man with the small-rimmed hat begins, “You are not safe my friend. As I have warned before, Death is preoccupied with you and your demise. Trust not a living soul.” Henry says, “Have you not come here to **** me for escaping your clutches?” The man bellows out a laugh and states, “I am not who you think I am. I’m here to keep you from him. That is the reason I have followed you at a distance.” Henry strains out, “You are not death coming to bid my end?” The man says, “No, but he has grown close to you.  Do not trust anyone you come into contact with. No one!” With that, the man departs off the train leaving only one more exit before Henry’s stop.
Henry exits the train peering into the faces of all around trying to see the devil behind their eyes. Henry talks to no one and makes it home safely. The incident on the train replayed in Henry’s mind until the vision was scratched like a vinyl under a needle. The only comfort Henry could think of was to sleep just one more night. Henry closes his eyes only to open them again to his nightmares. Like all the other nights, his mind dances with the idea of death but this time it was different. The pain was not just on the surface but sank deep within his being. He was strapped down and hot lava was being poured into his chest. Henry looks up to see teeth snarling at him and saliva dripping from the blackened abyss behind the teeth.  The creature was pinning him down and gave no relief. Henry now realizing it was only another nightmare he was attempting to wake himself, but he could not. As Henry’s eyes traveled up the face of the monster causing such pain, he sees the eyes. Eyes red as blood and that is when his mind pushes through the dreamland. Upon focusing in reality there was in fact some fiend residing on his chest. The dog that saved Henry was now tormenting him. The heat coming off the dog’s paws burned Henry’s skin. The dog then plunges for Henry’s heart. And that was the last thing Henry saw, his closest friend was indeed death.
Matthias Feb 2013
Water flowing down the permanent canals.
Colors running and bleeding together.
Red pressure spots residing in their familiar place.
Years of brokenness and neglect.

Ducts thought to be dried,
Yet springs forth gallons more.
How the nights are spent in a watery grave.
Cries heard from no one except her pillow.

Too many chances, to forgive again.
Quietness is welcomed, but hated.
For she lost all including herself,
And sadness became her only friend.
Matthias Dec 2012
My pen bleeds.
Each and every time,
I attempt to write my thoughts.

My pen bleeds.
How it looks,
Like a wound that needs healing.

My pen bleeds,  
So I don't lose ideas.
how selfish I am.

My pen bleeds,
And is satisfied
Because of the design.
Matthias Dec 2012
We are oceans apart and 20 hours away,
And here I sit wishing for your face.
I want to hold your hand through this storm.
How the cold reminds me of your warmth.

Come back to me soon my darling.
Embrace me with your hugs, which is invigorating,
And causes the world to stop on it’s axis.
Distance makes me sad, but the thought of you relaxes.
Matthias Dec 2012
Butterflies from a high school love,
turns to bats scratching at my lungs.
At first forever was what was thought,
                                                                       Now forever can’t be far enough.
Have no pity on the fact of loneliness,
For G-d has plans that are desirous.
Matthias Dec 2012
Your fingers are at first frost bitten,
As you touch me.
But as you move so gracefully,
Heat encompasses the tips.
What a beautiful sound we make,
And with you doing most the work.

Hammers strike with each swift press.
Vibrations of all octaves.
Move through my ivory teeth,
And turn the heads of all.
How we are made for each other.
For without the counter music is not made.

Hear me sing out my love,
And I can feel yours with each touch.
With trills, swells, and ritardando’s,
The noise guides ears to heaven.
For you are the hands that play,
And I the piano by the stairs.
Matthias Dec 2012
I feel for you, really I do.
Alone in the center of attention.
All eyes watching your actions,
Not for example but for laughs.
I’m tired of attempting to provide you with satisfaction.
Especially when you care not for the feelings of mine.

A favorite quote that you express,
“Well then throw the first stone.”
It’s not about destroying another,
But understanding there are differences.
Not all follow what you claim is right nor agree with your beliefs.
I am sorry to be the one to tell you; however, someone needs to.

As two earbuds resting within the canal of sound,
You constantly express disappointment.
Yet however much I am disappointed in you,
That cannot be true for you embody perfection.
Perfection apparently has graced your presence,
But you attempt to play it down with scriptures.

Words are what I choose to divulge,
Yet yours are tainted with bias.
Hypocrisy drips off your lips,
As drool from a dog’s mouth.
Return to what you know so intimately,
The need for self-affirmation and praise.
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