matt r

matt r Feb 25

truer blues have faded
faster than today - but
all i can think of is you.

sometimes i think against posting these little three-liners; they can feel easy and unoriginal, but then i think that trying to flesh them out anymore would be stealing them of their true essence. who cares if they've been thought before?

today was a beautiful day, the sky was blue and the sun was warm, but i'm tired. i'm tired of pretending i don't think about you every time i close my eyes. i want you. this is all for you & i hope you never read this.

matt r Feb 25

en jaune

"oh! despair is a soft orange glow"

then despair must be climbing my
walls with its springtime grip, see?
no, you sad mope! her name is hope

and she is a soft orange glow casting
spells on my back and i think i might
just wash her hair for her. remember
me when you dip your feet in the sea.

a bit kitsch.

matt r Feb 24

needleboned

sleepdrunk and riddled
with the thing between
the blinks;

boneneedled,
it knits me some axonic
skiprope fuckyou prize.

noooooooot good ! bad !!!

matt r Feb 24

her voice is sugar

my eyes are doughnut-holed;
rolled in fluorescent calflove
& eaten by the long walk there

to where she talks, florid
and smelling of sweetgrass,
of her lemon pancake fling.

matt r Feb 22

to:evie

hanging out my mind doesn't begin
to describe it! but despite my alcohol
induced hubris the sun has made its
february debut and the birdsong is
married to laughter - who put
the pathetic next to fallacy?
balloon-headed we spoke over
coffee & a pint, putting family to
rights and friends in a bubble. the
world doesn't often show itself, and i
mean truly show itself - pixie-ringed
and kitten-eyed - but today you
teased it out with little more than
the breath between your words.
look at that, i feel better already.

matt r Feb 22

the glint i saw in the sky just now

o soft lantern, teach me
how to gleam
in spite of petty falcons.

matt r Feb 21

to:jordie

some prologue this is shaping
up to be! in these little moments
we have together - the ones that
run like fauns - i think of your
lips when i told you my hat
matched the colour of your eyes.
your dimples - a tea time topic -
shone and i realised this is what
we are: a mosaic of arm taps
and doorway leans and cross
-room glances and blushes and
crushes and rushes of blood
to the head. little less than
touching but so much more than
middle names. me & you are
kismet.

"love is a faun
who insists his playmates run."

sylvia plath - love is a parallax.