My heart has risen from it’s dormant winter
No longer blanketed by clouded skies
It’s cold comfort no longer appealing
And can no longer cover my shadows, my footprints, my pride
They parted like window drapes
To a view so intimidating and sublime
Of all the possibilities
For a future- to myself- I denied
During this season
It took too much effort to bade off
The allure of such a melancholy dream
It took a strength I did not possess
A truth I could not confess
But now I have found the courage to find the warmth inside of me
To brighten my tunneled vision
To see my own faults
But realize things happen for a reason
As if warmth gives to warmth
And misery feeds into misery
But no one has to be the villain

random thoughts bouncing
inside my skull i'm writing
what they tell me to

My eye tells me I'm still 17 years old.
Sharing time with these classmates,
Their strength and compassion.
I am my criminal acts and the response which the law made against me.
Why did I hide my light of character in them?
To refuse my brother's good?
That I may stand with my own eyes - evil though they be?
For to live always under the guise of another's eyes is not justice.

The next could be us,
Ponder the connection?

Soldiers of Lives
Peons of the Eons
Messengers of Millennia
Souls of Seasons

Hands; smooth, tender
Eyes; sensitive, splendor
Heart; calloused, hardened
Soul; damaged , darkened

Two kingdoms, one Land
Reign of Heart, leads to hand in hand
Monarchy of Mind, breeds chaos in the silence
Duel kingdoms, inner conflicts under one alliance

The next could be us,
But not quite us.

My vision going black
Wishing I could go back
Back to when things began
To when I could see all my friends
Wishing to tell them all how I miss them
Them not seeing what I have become
The sick and fragile person of today
Wishing that I could stay
Nothing will bring me back
As my vision is going black

Written by
Michael Matthews

merlot leaked from my neck
white fog clouding my vision
my chest tightened
i fought back
the urge to fight
and greeted the night
which exploded
into blinding white light

I am the salivic twinkle in the eye.
I am the loss of vision when I look at a light.
I am the placement of a thing now, only put in my past, and played in my future.
I am the thing there now, that I placed in the past, and will leave there for the future.
I am too many to count
I am too dark to describe.
I am the colorful shades and lines of the inner eye perceiving my physical body.
Physical isn't quite right.
More like eternal-like being.
More like eternal-like spleen.
"Me" is so far out,
I don't know what this body is here before me.
What do these clothes cover?
Asymmetric from the center out.
Saying this like I gave humans life, made them walk upright.
I am the multichrome of closed eyes in a lit room.
I am faux wood.
I am that thing from the past, placed in the now, and still doesn't understand it's creator.
I am the question "why" which was never meant to be answered.
I am realizing those who are sanctified in their breath.
I am nerve meets bone meets skin meets hair.
But all in one form, I can't see how it happens.
I am what my eye looks like without seeing it, just imagining it.
"I am what I am" when I ask this question.
Sort of a mix of shape, mind, and hue.
Or is it head, line, and imagined body?
Does my hand touch my skull? Then is the hair and skin something unknown or forgotten?
What comes of the thought that is unrecognized during contemplation?
Are these really the bait for the goldfish in the mind's pool?
"Oh no, what am I going to do?" as a "bad" trip shortens my view.
The bone dry feeling of the fear of God, crushing every tendril and way that once carried me along merrily.
"What if I lose God by taking too much nutmeg?"
"You can't (or shouldn't) do that" a voice whispers to both losing God parts and taking too much nutmeg.
Now I'm contented and thoughts will no longer emerge from the pool.
So I must dive into sleep.
Good night.

I made a
vision board
in treatment
the other day.
I had to
hunt for a
picture of
Mom and Dad.

Where the ****
did the time go?
They have been gone
for over 30 years now.

The hour glass
broke,
and the sand
blew and blended
me in with the
storms of life.
I tried to
drink
all the pain away;
to become a
lobotomized shell.
It didn't work.
The poet in me
felt everything.

I have four
kids that my
parents never got
to meet.
Sometimes I see
Mom and Dad
in my son's and
daughter's eyes.
Two have blue
like Dad.
And two have brown
like Mom and me.
They are
intelligent
sensitive
and caring.

When I was
little, I thought
my parents would
live forever.
On my vision
board,
I become a
better father.

when i had no age
when i was a light ray through the window
i was born
pulled from a prismatic prison
all thanks to a vision
they had
of a son

now, i am here
and what is here?
save for abject misery

is it right to subject nothing to something
to pluck out stars, from the sky?
more of us are birthed everyday
and more of us see themselves buried
and the world keeps spinning
and it would if we decide to all die
or if we decide to live
the former and latter have no affect

so why are we here?
***
and what comes after,
death
black