"Who would love such a
toxic conundrum?"
I whispered in the early
hours of my existence,
starting as a lukewarm
substance,
gazing into my pristine heart,
my empty core.

Then the fate of life saw to it;
to stain my skin and give
my emptiness a name;
Hurt,
no.
Ignition, match,
or maybe their hands.

I can't tell when those things
had a distinct identity
and didn't just seem to be
my heart twisting and
my core splitting,
soaked in chemicals,
all mixing.

There are cigarette lighters
everywhere you turn,
they look like brown eyes,
rough hands and vinyl collectors.
But I realize I am something
to be inhaled;
choose dying over pleasure,
give me your utmost devotion,
touch me as I burn.

My name's Anti and I crave
the dark side of a day,
I'm insecure and
sometimes I can't define what I think,
I push people away,
I've gotten so huge,
my victim sees a shrink.
I won't be tamed by pills,
a substance holds no power
over a force that kills;
sure, I'm prone to blind infatuation,
extreme heart palpitations,
but has no one ever told you
of my evergreen determination?

I suppose I should tell you a little more about myself...
Something that has at least a LITTLE wealth.
I've always loved to write poems but stopped
I just kind of moved on and dropped.
Hopefully by the time you finish I'm still writing.
Stopping to write is a habit I'm fighting.
I'm quirky, fun, and love to be silly.
I'm a girly girl; romantic comedies, make-up, all that ***** nilly.
I own a skateboard and play video games occasionally.
I socialize a lot and try to stay with company ever so painfully.
I love people, though I can be shy.
It's just a thing I do, I don't know why.
So there's a lot about me,
I hoped you enjoyed my story heehee.
Hopefully I can actually meet you too!
See you soon, I bid you adieu. c:

you said you can read me like a book
but you won't tell me what my pages say, or how many there are,
what my chapters are titled, if they even are titled
i want to know
who my introduction mentions,
what my author's note says,
and who helped me with the theme
but honestly, please
at least tell me about the chapter where you appear
just let me know if it ends well

I... how do I start this?

Okay, I'll just, just get straight in...

I think of nameless things,
Weightless thoughts with withering strings,
Faithful thoughts of my distressed links,
Boneless thoughts now surfacing,
Stressful 9, and He stopped winking,
No two's and no signs and I'm singing,
So here's now what I'm invested in:

I like to sing, I like to write, there's a Sılver ın my mınd,
I also like to talk in rhymes, and keep the meaning behind.
No, I don't talk like this real life.

Just a little sometimes :}

Not so socially smart and strong,
That's why I like to stay between my walls,
It's a lot easier.. being you between ya walls, ya know?

I love to know, but am I capable at all anymore?
Lately I've gotten a little time-out,
And I thought it was a nice life treat (becuase, wow, obviously I've always been a lucky me.)
But now I lost my inner light, n my speed's somewhere at school & sixteen,

And I...hate all these I's... I use too much of those, don't I? sigh

So, well, here's my why: I enjoy writing because inside I'm.. just...

Well.
T.Swifting on my surroundings,
And 'my feelings, all my findings,
Schizophrenic analysis,
Drama addict's falls and lightnings,
A hundred more words off a Draddict,
But they'll fall out where the light's in,
And I struggle to finish my writings,
A quick toggle in the dark, a little change in heart,
This great flow of my voice... sometimes. I have to confess of my heart for the dark.
How did I get to write this section?
And since when do I blend songs & introductions?

My winter infection?

A little more than I should, I'm enjoying this dive down deep to the darkest dark. A little more than a little more than I should.

Hi. My name is Matt.
My brain is in a vat.
I exist in the eyes
of Schrödinger's cat.

© Matthew Harlovic

I've always thought it a bit cruel that
my mother named me Trista Joy.
Doomed to a fate of being pulled,
polarizing at two ends of the spectrum of emotion.
Smacked into the middle of a war
that has been waged for thousands of years.
Millions of lives lost to both happiness and sadness.

A walking contradiction can only move about in one way.
Circling what I thought I knew, and what really is.
Am I meant to be extreme in expression,
ferociously flippant from side to side?
Was I born without the ability to reach the medium?

A children's movie once taught me that
happiness cannot exist without sadness,
and in that I often find solace.
But I live in a world where people run, fight, and hide
from half of what I am, and obsessively strive for the other.
It gets exhausting, suppressing  the spring loaded spirit that is being sad.
Happiness can only hold its ground for so long.

It's great to meet you, I'm Sad Joy Sullivan.

and I'll pour all my sadness into you
should you like what I say and what I do
never let there be a pausing moment
as I had him in winter but he left me in spring
so now I wonder what fresh air should bring
every passing part of me gives way
and after everything here
I am still around
to welcome you in on a brighter day