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“The side of her head is shaved,
isn’t that weird?”
Afraid to admit my attraction,
I nodded in agreement.

And in a low voice
I responded with,
yeah, weird…
Yet again he pointed out,

“Look at her septum piercing!
Doesn’t she look like Benny the Bull?”
I looked away. Under my breath
I said, “I think…she’s cute.

My friend turned
with simpering eyes.
Really? Cute?
You’re a ****** too.”

I looked up, “I’m not weird.
I just think she’s pretty,
that’s all.”
He scoffed,

“Nah man, you’re really weird.
Tattoos and piercings aren’t attractive,
they’re weird but I guess weirdos
are attracted to other weirdos.

Flustered, I looked up to him.
“So what?  Punk rock is pretty.
At least I’m not a pretentious ******* like you.”
And with that, I left him there.

© Matthew Harlovic
Just something that happened a while back.
tear out from inside all things sharp

tear out from inside all things that cut

tear out from inside all things that bruise

tear out from inside all things that hurt

tear out from inside all things cold

tear out from inside all things cruel

tear out from inside all things heavy

tear out from inside all things empty

tear out from inside all things buried

crumple it up

throw it down on the floor

walk away

don’t look back

escape
note to self & everyone else
You gotta know what for, babe, you got nothin' to lose,
Just like ev'rybody else in the whole **** world.
You gotta break on through
To the other side of your sad attitude,
But you can't shake off
Them muddy Mississippi Bluez.

Well, Hell! She's beatin' on a drum
And she's gettin pretty loose.
Seems like ev'rybody else in the whole **** world
Is comin' down on her
And standin' on some plattitude.
She's just tryin' to groove
To the muddy Mississippi Bluez.

Up and down the water,
You watch the riverboats cruise,
As you drink against a tree beneath a sky of blue.
Sleep wants to take you,
But Honey, you refuse.
You gotta pay your dues
To the muddy Mississippi Blues.

Life along the delta can be simple and fine,
When the stills fill the jugs and the full moon shines.
You're gonna make it through
When you find a little gratitude.
So give your praise
To the muddy Mississippi Bluez

"Well, Hell! Take me away,
Muddy Mississippi.
I know I can count on you.
To stain my soul
Like muddy Mississippi goo.
I owe it all
To the muddy Mississippi Bluez!"
This is a reposting.I took it down as a last resort to remove a comment that was basically a filthy joke. I do go in for that sort of humor. I wrote it during the millinium year because I was living in the Florida Everglades, and was feeling homesick for the Mississippi Delta region where I roamed for years. Creative liscense is taken to help create a certain freedom of conventionality and echo some of the dialacts I've heard when I lived there. If you have ever been a "river rat" you'll understand.
Even though things might be difficult, right now here.
Still I find peace, because I know that you have my back .
Things might seem impossible right now, but you have me cover.
For you have my best interest, you are my God and Salvation.
Nothing is as great, as you my Loving King and Savior.
I am by far so blessed by you O Worthy Savior and King.
For my peace does not come from me or my circumstances.
But it comes from within, from your Holy Spirit Lord.
This is where my peace comes from, from you O Holy One.
I fell in love with a composer
He told me middle C was his favorite
It a home
That he could always find
Right in the middle of all the crooked
Black and whiteness

He became the conductor of my life
He used to tell me
“I love you I love you I love you.
Goodnight Goodnight Goodnight.
See you in the morning See you in the morning See you in the morning”
Over and over
Becoming my anthem of lies

I heard that the day she had left him
He forgot to say it once
So maybe I suppose
He thinks that if saying it a single time
Can’t save her ghost
Then maybe saying it to me
100 times can

He tried to take that repeat sign of his love
Unwind it and bind
My heart to his
He couldn’t set me free
Because he knew that if he did
I’d never return
You see I was never his

I was supposed to compose a song
About regret
But baby if you put him and me
Onto that page
You’d have a symphony
Of broken set of my chords
That he couldn’t tune
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