Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
matt r Jan 28
i can taste it like sand swilled
around my pillar teeth it hides
juuust behind my tongue u c?

do u c? look into my mouth
and ******* 7am breath c
the fact im no warmer than

a hot spring or kettle
im barely a man ach
ing like the fault line
matt r Jan 22
the french call the ****** 'the
little death' but what about the
sunset over the foxgloves? alm

ost diluted isnt it i suppose the
constant cycling of day to night
today is the day im gonna shed

some atoms to her i dont mind
dying a little bit per day if it me
ans more ******* and sunsets
matt r Jan 18
dear you,

as i left the cinema pondering loss and trying to tie it to a real anchorable place in the world i walked past a sign that read 'elizabeth banks street' or something. i wondered when it was last given a lick of paint because it was starting to show bare metal around the writing. i forgot about it as i rounded the corner.

the edible i ate before the film grew warm weeds in my bones as i passed a couple on a bench; they'd been there 90 minutes earlier on my way to the cinema. i wondered what they'd chatted about that was worth enduring the cold for. maybe it's like that when you find the one. i thought of the girl at work i have a crush on.

i moved towards the canal and as i counted all the missing cobblestones i danced over the song i was listening to began to swell slowly in my veins. i felt my steps get lighter and wore this unbelievable grin on my face. i thought of the guy i've always wanted to be and how i felt like i was becoming him. i thought of buying a home and owning books and records and how it felt like it was all going to happen. i really felt like i was in exactly the place i was supposed to be at that moment. it was a funny contrast to loss.

my old block of flats sat on the opposite side of the canal a little further down. i slowed a bit and thought of the man i was last year and how proud i am of him. i think i'm a more spiritual man now. i've learned to become a lot more present and appreciate what makes art so beautiful. there's a lived experience reflected in every piece, you see, whether you like it or not. that's what makes art subjective; some people see things they don't want to be reminded of.

so love and growth warmed my leather-laden feet as i turned the final corner into the alleyway opposite my flat. i thought of my new socks and the places they were gonna take me just as i saw a guy hop over a car park fence with a filled bin bag. i wondered if they were his clothes in the bag and if he'd been kicked out by a partner. maybe he'd stolen something. it could be one of a million things but it's another funny contrast to really hoist the moon over my evening. i suppose gain grows from loss like a parasite.

write soon
matt r Jan 5
clicks like an ice cube clattering
off her teeth. my love, she talks
like a cipher spins. still, ringless
and moonless she hangs there
like invitation; some bootless
rocketship i fancy myself to be.
matt r Dec 2024
end with music like a winestain
wrap a shoulder in reflux dig ur
talkn from ur throat its no good

its question time for the dreamers
is there really such thing as cheez
or is it just some joke im not in on

untuc ur shirt like u walk a churchgoer
whip nocturns back like a duvet o pluto
u infest stronomic beds like bredcrums
exploring nonsense. not that u don't know that.
matt r Dec 2024
the moon bobbed like a lure
rain and other drugs ran off
his coat the whaleskin creak   (s)

like a fishing rod missing the
hook it casted on some z-axis
it gifted a girl the fate of laika

took a vacuum to the beach
we call andromeda the dust
leaked oh aries has a mother
matt r Dec 2024
shrug the armistice from your
shoulders you little teapot you
brew peppermint rain in vain

in doors we dance like monets
girls i saw you tiptoe into glass
like a still pool of stomach acid

we talk of throwing music out
the window would it be littrin
to play o-love-me-love-me-not?
Next page