Every poet titles its poem UNTITLE,once in a lifetime.

your words wash over me,like crashing waves upon rocky shores
constantly haunting me night after night...
what is it that you want ?

I keep thinking of excellent titles
for stories I haven't written yet.
Does that still give them life?
Damnable muse!
rushing in unprepared.
you leave a graveyard of thoughts
for lack of pen and paper.
abrupt endings scattered about
in the back of old notebooks.
an endless stream of stutter steps,
of scratched out
phrases.
don't you know
the name should come last?
we've given existence to written down regret,
reason to rue my very first love.
what a Jealous thing you are.
to clip the wings of baby birds.
they were ours.

I froze up** on the staircase, staring at space much like a jigsaw falling in place. I was high and dry like a lotus flower in bloom. Lost in the fog as I tried to sail to the moon. I was searching for the subterranean homesick alien on Planet Telex to ask him the million dollar question he spoke in codex. So I’ll never find out the answer for the talk show host just like how the spooks won’t give up the ghost.

© Matthew Harlovic

So what** do you mean, you can’t take me home? Baby please don’t leave me alone (I’m lonely) and I don’t want to take the walk of shame home sober Well that’s ******’ perfect, love is such a crazy thing until you realize that it’s over. So let me let you know, that you make me sick, it’s sickening, that most girls will fall for your private show.

© Matthew Harlovic