My love for love itself is overflowing
The thoughts in my head are tender and raw
Over and over again, I see that portrait of you
Of an angel
The spitting image of love itself is embedded in you

In your nut brown hair
In your toned arms
In your silken thin lips

Slowly the flames burn my heart
All incentive has melted away, with no wick left to light
and no rock left to spark

And it is then I realize that life has shown me all its foibles
And that I may never fall for love again

Made it again this day.
Hard time saving time
Losing grip on most sides,
Dots are needled above the "i"s,
Still make no sense of it.

They concur to this idea
Of large scale violence
As an incentive that it may arise
from fixing their dots to nobody's
Is.

And what is invention
If not the hustle to make it all
Work fine,
The doubt is it won't, but the process
makes it inspiring.

Sometimes it takes just a grinder,
uninventive but hopeful.

Here is a carrot
we made it from sticks

eat it

eat the stick carrot
or by gosh
we’ll hit you with
this stick

which is not made of carrots

now
here’s a survey about how you feel
which we also made from sticks
although
it doesn’t matter if it’s glass or gold
we won’t look at it anyway

so
eat the stick carrot
and try not to look over there
where they’ll give you actual carrots
and sticks are frowned upon

oh
you’ve gone

I need incentive to write
To think
To imagine
Living a happy life
I need a heart
A replacement
To the misery
You planted with your knife
I need my time
To be back
Without struggles
When we fight
I need air
To breath
To feel my lungs
Exhaling you out
I need light
To see
To spot you
Leaving my sight
I need ears
To hear
To despise
The lies you weaved so tight
I need my mind
To forget
The promises you say
Then **** over night
I need incentive to write
To warn others
To tell innocents
How all this was never right

Head held high, flexing the shell
bright lifestyle, I know it too well.
It’s a tall tale to tell but its best that you know
that things get better at the end of the road
Not too long ago, I felt the same way
I dealt with demons that crept in the grey
And maybe it’s hard enough to ask for help
but it’s harder to watch yourself
give up once you’ve left the shelf

Nah, I couldn’t stomach the pain
like a trumpet, I blew the in out of sane.
I popped open a vein to paint my blues, violet
and threw a pair of cans on to block out the silence.
I’m not defiant; I defy any tyrant
that tries to buy my compliance.
I ride with the giants, stride like Midas
minus the greed, all I need is kindness.

Spread your wings; shed the ego
live amid the kings like a needle.
Be your own hero, succeed the sequel
take charge, zero in on the easel.
Reach for the stars, you are an artist
Van Gough goals; erase all the hardships.
I may try my hardest
but I’m not the smartest
but good work ethic leads to a harvest.
Reap my carcass, long after I’m gone,
brains over brawn, shame on you all
for thinking that these walls can hold me in.
You get the memo? I’m better than I’ve ever been.
Binge drinking is a sickness in itself
try to **** the pain but the pain kills the help
as well as low thinking it will **** your brain cells
if you try to **** the pain, you will **** yourself

© Matthew Harlovic